


Fracture Critical

by ChortlingTortoise



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChortlingTortoise/pseuds/ChortlingTortoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fracture Critical: There is no additional support for the structure should the primary load-bearing element fail." </p><p>The hits keep coming, and Shepard isn't recovering the way she used to. Every death feels more personal and more her fault, but if she asks for help, loses hope for even a second, then they all do; then they all die. So she stays silent. The man she loves continues to doubt her, and the support she gets elsewhere isn't enough, so she buries every wound and bears the weight alone. The cracks are starting to show.</p><p>Follows the events Mass Effect 3 and beyond, with a focus on Shepard and Kaidan's relationship. Adult content. Later on, may feature character pairings not currently tagged (not with Shepard, however).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foreshock

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, so here we are at the beginning. This story started for NaNoWriMo, so it's gonna be a bit of a doozy. A lot of much later scenes were typed up early, so even though I'm drawing close to my 50k at this point, not all of that can be posted.(I say this to explain why I can only currently post a few thousand words of a NaNo story when by this time in November I should have about 40k words)
> 
> The story will follow Mass Effect 3, but will not be a straight up mission-by-mission narrative. Major, necessary scenes from the game I'll try to transcribe as best I can while adding and subtracting where I think appropriate. Sometimes transcripts or videos can be hard to find though, and if I don't have a save near that time I may just have to go by memory and hope.
> 
> I felt like Mass Effect 3 was a little more lacking in conversation and development between the crew than the previous games, and while the nature of any game of course limits how deep such things can go, I wanted more, which is why I'm typing away. So my goal is to get in there and get to know 'em, especially Shepard, and explore how someone as closed off as Shepard is deals with that magnitude of responsibility while being cut off at every turn, not just by the Reapers, but socially and emotionally as well. Shepard's relationship with Kaidan will be a major focus of the story. 
> 
> I also, like maybe 1 or 2 or 3 people, felt a little lack of closure with the ending. So this story will continue past EndGame, though how far I can't say, since who knows what this Shepard will choose... 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

 

* * *

 

 

     Shepard liked to think she hid it well, but seeing Kaidan again threw her off-balance. 

     After waking up on the Cerberus station, she'd been unable to see him or even send a message for months until they finally met on Horizon. The moment she'd heard he was there it had been embarrassingly hard to focus on the mission. Like a schoolgirl she felt her heart and gut fluttering, mind racing with a hundred different scenarios, what should she say, what would he do, how it would feel. She was almost…giddy. 

     It seemed pathetic now.

     And even though Jane understood now, barely, why he reacted the way he did, it had never crossed her mind as a possibility before then that he might be angry, might reject her. Would think she was a monster…That made it all the more difficult to try and pick up the pieces of her so carefully hidden, tiny hopes of what they might have one day. There had been men before, but none that had ever inspired serious consideration of one day planting roots. Or seeds. Ideas she hadn’t entertained since she was just a girl on Mindoir.

     There were perks to working in the private sector, as Joker liked to say, and one of those perks was easier access to alcohol. She'd downed a bottle--a _large_ bottle--of wine by herself up in her quarters. She remembered that somehow Miranda had found her way there just in time to see her commander stumbling towards the toilet to vomit. Lawson had been surprisingly maternal, smoothing Shepard's hair back, wiping her smeared make-up from her face, and helping her out of her uniform and into sweatpants and a t-shirt as she cursed Kaidan Alenko's stupid name and stupid handsome face. 

_"You must think I'm a weakling, now," Shepard mumbled as Miranda helped undo the altogether too numerous snaps and buckles on her damn uniform._

_"On the contrary," the woman replied promptly. "I'll say though, it does make you seem…more human."_

_"What?" Shepard asked blankly._

_"I'm an expert on being aloof, Shepard," Miranda elaborated dryly. "You're a little friendlier about it, but you're still up on the pedestal. Untouchable. …Lonely. I wasn’t sure if you were capable of a relationship, much less getting drunk over a man.” Miranda helped her into her chosen oversized t-shirt without saying a word about it being a mens shirt in a highly coincidental size._

_"Oh, good. I'm glad I could show you my_ humanity _," Shepard muttered, tugging the nightshirt down to her thighs._

_"Sit down before you put these on," Miranda instructed, handing her sweats, and gave Shepard a light push on the shoulder to sit on her the bed. "And I'm not glad. He was a real ass."_

_After the initial emotions of shock and anger wore off, they'd been replaced with, among other things, intense humiliation that Lawson and Garrus had seen and heard everything. Followed by depression. Rinse, and repeat._

_"…He's not normally, y'know," Shepard said miserably as she scrunched up one leg of the pants at a time to pull them on. "That's why I'm so… …He's gentle. Much nicer than me," she'd added with a small smile, before it dropped from her face abruptly, "…I missed him so much Miranda, and he…" She scrubbed at her cheeks with her hands, a talisman against any tears. "Dammit," she cursed. She had been phenomenally drunk, in retrospect. Talking about her love-life with Miranda the Ice Queen. "Bastard. I_ dreamed _about..."_

 _"I know. Your battle strategy was remarkably lower quality than usual. Fortunately, when I learned of Alenko's involvement, I surmised that might happen and started planning in advance; Mordin and Garrus picked up some of the slack as well.” Shepard wanted to sink into the floor. Leave it to Miranda to be honest_. _But the woman paused and seemed to realize that wasn't the best response. "…I'm certain he dreamed of you as well," she added as she turned down the bed covers. Shepard turned to face her, trying not to appear too interested._

_"How d'you know that?" Relationship advice from Lawson. Damn she was desperate._

_"No one gets that angry at someone they don't care about anymore, Shepard. I may be distant, but I know that much," she stated matter-of-factly. She helped get her commander settled under the sheets and comforter._

_"...It's not fair. It wasn't m'fault," she murmured, lying back, eyes getting heavier. "I love him," she said so quietly that Miranda barely heard it._

_"I know. I'm sorry." Shepard looked up at Miranda and blinked sleepily._

_"Have I ever told you…everythin' you say is somehow much more comforting with your accent?" Miranda hid a small smirk behind her hand._

_"No, Commander, you haven't."_

_"Even the scary stuff, like wakin' up durin' the attack. Even when you're a bitch. You just make it sound…comfy," Jane smiled drunkenly._  

_"Ah, well, thank you… I think,” she added skeptically._

_"An…Don't tell anybody about this ever, okay?"_

_"Of course not, Shepard," Lawson's lips twitched, and she placed a glass of water on the nightstand._

_"…An thank you, Miranda. For listenin'. For everything. Gonna…'preciate it in the morning. And…It's Jane. Jay. If you want. 'Stead a Shepard." At that, Miranda's stoic control softened just a little bit, and she smiled warmly._

_"You're welcome, Jane.”_

 

     Then after that, months of fighting collectors, and nothing but that single, muddled note. Maybe, maybe not. Will he or won't he. Did he trust her or not? _Maybe,_ if she came back from her _suicide mission,_ then they could talk. That son of a bitch. The Normandy's punching bag saw a lot of exclusive face and fist time with Commander Shepard the week or two after the message’s arrival.

     And then, she _did_ return from her suicide mission. In glory, in fact, with every crew member, every teammate alive and hale when they'd come back from the omega relay. The goodbyes had been difficult-- the only thing that would save Shepard and the other Alliance officers aboard the ship was quick, complete self-surrender and acquiescence. So many a crew member found their time to say goodbye cut brutally short, though at least they were alive to say them. Then Shepard had surrendered the Normandy SR-2 and herself to Alliance custody.

     And promptly spent 6 months alone. She knew Kaidan wouldn't be able to visit right away; he was probably on a mission, and certainly she wasn't allowed to get a message out to him. It might be tough to cut through the red tape. But at some point, he should have found the time. If only to talk about what was said. 

     But no visits. Not a word. Her hurt and resentment grew, no matter how she tried not to nurse the ache. 

     Then finally, freed from her prison, about to at last finally make progress on Earth's readiness for the reapers-- and everything went sideways. Her only hope was that when she'd relented, just a little, and admitted that she was glad to see him, there had been a hint of a smile.

      From the moment she jumped aboard the Normandy she was aware of exactly where his body was at all times, specifically in relation to hers. On one hand, the constant anxiety served to keep away some of the horrors she'd seen on Earth, if only for a little while. Unfortunately, all it left her with was the muddled remains of love, loneliness, and anger.

 

* * *

 

     Just like old times, there she was. All glory and fire and blood in her wake, jumping onto the Normandy like she’d never left it. Kaidan’s hand steadying her as she landed, then pulling away as if burned. He watched her and Anderson warily, uncomfortable as control of the Normandy returned to Shepard. He would have felt better with Anderson at the helm. This Jay, this Jane, this Shepard, he still didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know enough about her to trust her.

     That wasn’t entirely true, though-- it was his instinctual trust of her that made him doubt everything. The way she seemed to just slip back into his life as if it was made for her. The wry smile and the sarcasm, the conversations they could have with just looks. The way command settled on her shoulders as easily as breathing. The way he wanted so badly for it to be her that he knew he could easily ignore all signs that it wasn’t.  

     When the hangar bay was closing, she suddenly became transfixed; it was dangerous. He yelled her name in her ear, trying to get her further into the docking bay, until he came forward enough to really see her. Her eyes were huge in her face, locked onto a transport shuttle in front of them that burst into flame. She stumbled back as if shot, blood draining from her face. He held on to her arm to keep her up, slowly stepping back, until her normal bearing returned. _What did you see, Shepard?_ He wanted to know. _But it’s not my place to ask anymore_. 

     She recovered quickly though, and pulled away from him to yell at Lieutenant Vega. A talented man, Kaidan thought, but green enough that Shepard had to talk him down into following orders. He wouldn’t be ready for bigger things until he could get his impulses under control.

     When it was clear Vega wouldn’t be mutinying, Shepard sent him away, and they were alone in the cargo bay. A position he didn’t realize he would be in, and didn’t realize he would regret so intensely, until those elevator doors slid shut. And suddenly that giant hangar didn’t seem big enough to contain the pacing creature in front of him. Kaidan had been painfully aware of her body language and her body’s proximity to his since their meeting less than an hour ago, and all signs were pointing to some sort of blowup. Something she’d caged up and patiently set aside for six months until the object of that rage was alone in a room with her. He swallowed hard; should he say something first? 

     They were about to lose Earth to the Reapers. They may have already lost most of the Alliance. Yet at that moment he was more afraid of Jane Shepard than any Reaper. 

     She turned on her heels to face him.

    “ _You_ ,” she said, eyes flashing. Kaidan blinked and stepped back in alarm.  

     “What?” He said a little dumbly. It could be hard to think sometimes when Shepard brought all her will to bear on a man at once, for him even more so than others. She put her hand on his chest and gently shoved him back against the wall, making his heart skip a beat. He could smell vividly the smoke and blood on her. But most of his attention was on her green eyes, their ferocity pinning him to the wall. She was hurt, and she was furious. He steeled himself for a dressing down, or an argument, a continuation of their last real conversation.

     Part of him was incredibly annoyed that she couldn’t wait just a little bit longer to talk. Another part knew that they were long past due, and that there was a lot he had to answer for in the time since he’d promised they would. 

     He wasn’t prepared for Shepard to stand on her tiptoes, pull him down by his collar and kiss him warmly, deeply. He was shocked; could barely think. So, unthinking, Kaidan fell back into his old life and kissed her back without hesitation. Kissed her hungrily, and she changed the tilt of her head to let him delve deeper, let the kiss become slower, languorous. Instinctively his hands hovered above her hips, wanting to grab and take hold of her like he should have, wished he had, months ago, but unsure if he had the right. Then as her hand crept up into his hair, he shoved aside those doubts and held her firmly. Her tongue ran across and past his lips and he responded in kind; a slow, liquid heat building between them and the sounds of muffled breath and rustling clothing. It was a perfect moment in time. ...Until Jay broke away from him, lightly flushed but otherwise appearing completely calm.

     “You forgot to give that to me on Horizon,” she said, and Kaidan felt his body run cold and hot, embarrassment burning in his cheeks. The Commander was uncanny. Able to make one statement mean so many different things, and take him down so quickly. ‘ _You treated me unkindly; I didn’t deserve it. I missed you. You forgot me when I needed you. I never hurt you on purpose. That was the reunion we should have had.’_ All things he knew, things he thought about all the time. Still...

     “I’m sorry,” he replied, and the words were out of his mouth so quickly that he winced. He wasn’t entirely sure he meant them. His only solace, and chagrin, was that Shepard noticed. She always did.

     “We’ll talk about it. After Mars. I just thought I should remind you,” she said, tone again even and measured, but a glint in her eye. 

     “I can’t believe I forgot,” Kaidan said huskily. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.

     “Me either,” she said with raised eyebrows, measuring him, and left to see Joker on the bridge. He let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding and let himself lean back against the wall a little bit longer. 

_God, what a woman._

 

* * *

 

 

     “Shepard, I need a straight answer,” Kaidan strode towards her. _Shit. Now? Really?_

     “Kaidan,” she sighed heavily and turned away from him, and rubbed her helmet where her temple would be if she didn’t have to wear the damn thing.

     “Don’t ‘Kaidan’ me, this is business!” He was right; their old pattern was so easy to fall into. She turned to face him. “Do you know anything about why Cerberus is here?”

     “What makes you think _I_ know what they’re up to?” She asked, letting an edge creep into her voice in hopes of dissuading Kaidan from pursuing the topic.

     “You worked for them for god’s sakes,” he said, the volume of his voice decreasing, sounding less certain, “...how am I _not_ supposed to think that?” He walked away, gripped the railing opposite her. She followed him after a moment. 

     “We joined forces to take down the Collectors. _That’s it_ ,” she said curtly. 

     “There’s more to it. They rebuilt you from the ground up, they gave you a ship--resources!” _You..._ ** _infuriating_** _man,_ she cursed to herself. Jane got in close, grabbing onto the railing and leaning towards him.

 _“_ Let me be clear,” she made a cutting gesture with her hand, a supreme force of will the only thing keeping her from snarling. “I’ve had _no_ contact with Cerberus since I destroyed the Collector Base, and I have _no idea_ why they’re here now, or what they want.” She willed herself to patience. If she blew up at Kaidan now, she could lose him forever. But if he kept sniffing around her and poking and prodding her with this bullshit, not even love was going to save his ass from getting chewed out.

     “Commander Shepard’s been under constant surveillance since coming back to Earth, no way they’ve communicated since,” James interjected, and she thanked him silently. 

     “...Sorry Shepard, it’s just that--” the air pressurizers cut him off for a moment, and they removed their helmets. She took the opportunity to turn away for a moment and gather herself. Her emotions warred with each other; she wanted to shake him for his stupidity, _make_ him understand; she wanted him to love her on his own terms, for him to be a good enough man to know; she wanted to hurt him the way he was hurting her. His doubt cut her in a place she thought she’d walled off long ago and left her surprisingly unsteady on her feet. When she settled on the words she wanted, she looked back at him.

     “You of all people should know what I’m about, Kaidan,” Shepard said, her tone chastisement and entreaty both. Kaidan looked stubbornly at the floor, not responding, though after a moment his hand went to his forehead. She felt a twinge of worry, knowing he must have the beginnings of a migraine, but she pushed down her concern to face the opening elevator doors. “Please trust me,” she asked more quietly, glancing at him briefly and feeling small. She could admit, in the privacy of her own head, that she was too much of a coward to keep looking at his face, afraid to see the truth there when his words could lie much more prettily. Though Kaidan was a terrible liar.

     “I _do_ , I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--“ Loud, frenzied clanking interrupted him and sent them all behind cover. She couldn’t do it out loud, but in her mind she let out an outlandishly huge sigh of relief when Liara crawled out of the ductwork and made short work of two cerberus soldiers. _Somebody else on my side. Somebody he trusts._

     Shepard made a mental note to herself to apologize to James later, after she sent him back to cover the squad-- both for excluding him from the fight for the second time, and for having to overhear what was basically a lovers’ spat cloaked in insubordinate mission-speak. At least the first offense served a purpose; she needed to know _yesterday_ whether Vega would follow her orders when it counted most. 

     And she needed to know today, yesterday, six months ago, whether Kaidan would be there when she needed him most.

     They fought through Cerberus ground troops until they reached the security station, and Kaidan started searching for a usable Cerberus communicator to get them a tram to the archives. Shepard was surprised to see him not only taking more initiative, but thinking so creatively as well.

     “What?” Shepard asked, suddenly sensing Liara’s gaze on her back and turning around.

     “The major has become very...capable,” she replied carefully.

     “And...?” Shepard asked with raised eyebrows.

     “Nothing. Just that...confidence and skill can be attractive,” Liara observed too innocently. Oh god, had she been that obvious? She felt her cheeks getting warm.

     “Well, I’ve...heard that said before--”

     “Shepard! I found something,” Kaidan called, and Shepard seized the opportunity to leave Liara’s scrutinizing eyes and knowing smile.

     “What’ve you got?” She asked, eager to be back on mission, where life made sense. _A Reaper invasion making more sense than my personal life is altogether too fucked up._

     “He’s got a transmitter in his helmet. If I can--“ Kaidan lifted the visor on the man’s helmet and jerked back. Its face, and in particular its eyes, were a ruin of glowing cyan circuitry. “My god. He looks like a husk.”

     “Yeah, not quite. ...But they’ve definitely done something to him,” Shepard said in disgust, nose wrinkled up as she knelt down to peer at the unfortunate soldier.

     “And by they, you mean Cerberus? They _did_ this to their own guy?” Kaidan asked, repulsed and surprised. Jane envied him the ability to still be surprised by the enemy. She was disgusted, but she barely expected to make it out of the war alive anymore, much less with a sense of human dignity intact. “...Is this what they did to you?” Her eyebrows snapped together in consternation.

     “Seriously? How can you compare _me_ to _him_?” He looked away from her, clenching his jaw.

     “Shepard, I don’t know what you are, or who. Not since Cerberus rebuilt you,” her stomach was suddenly in her throat, all nausea and shock at his casual cruelty. “For all I know, you could be their puppet, controlled by the Illusive Man himself!” _This is why attachment is stupid. This is why I shouldn’t bother,_ she thought. 

     “I swear to god, if this mission weren’t so important I would lay you out right now,” she snarled at him. “How the hell can I get through to you?!”

     “Don’t try to explain it,” Kaidan waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t think I’d understand anyway.”  

     “You son of a bitch,” she spat.  _Is the room spinning? Is it really you saying these things to me?_

     “I just want to know, Shepard!” He started, finally facing her, “Is the person I followed to Hell and back-- the person that I loved--“ Her heart squeezed painfully, “are you still in there...somewhere?” 

     “I never left, Kaidan. But I _won’t_ keep throwing myself at the altar of your forgiveness. Not so you can keep knocking me back.” Her voice was low and murderous.

     “...Jane?” Kaidan asked, startled by her tone. Maybe finally realizing that, said to a traitor, his words were nothing. Said to a lover, they were brutal. 

     “Do. Not,” she said through her teeth. “You don’t get to do that,” she reiterated passionately, pointing at him. “They didn’t change me, or how I feel about you. But clearly words won’t convince you,” she finished bitterly before grabbing the communicator and, after steadying her voice, followed through with their plan to get a tram sent by Cerberus. Afterwards, she sighed, and with a sidelong glance at Kaidan, muttered “You always were stubborn.”

     “Me?!” He asked with incredulous laughter, and she couldn’t stop herself from smirking. His own laugh made him sound like such a goof that it was hard to stay angry. The stupid little smile he shot her didn’t hurt either. _I’m such a sucker._

 

* * *

 

     Everything was moving slowly, as if Mars’ hazy air was as difficult to drag themselves through as syrup. It was strangely quiet, too, Shepard noted. There was a faint, background thrum, and then a bright, high-pitched whine on top of it, almost like the old emergency broadcast signal, or all you could hear after being too close to an explosion. Someone yelled Kaidan’s name, and suddenly she was shooting at a robot bizarrely miming a slow-motion sprinter.

     No, something was not quite right, she thought as she grabbed Kaidan and pulled him around her shoulders in a fireman’s carry, waving off James to grab the android. But what was off?

     She gently set Kaidan down on the bed in the med bay, eyes searching, flitting across his whole body in search of something, she didn’t know what. Her hands hovered above him, wanting to touch, wanting to fix something, but not knowing what to do. Not understanding all the terrible bruises on his face. _What do I do?_ Suddenly Liara’s big blue eyes were in her field of vision.

     “Kaidan _needs_ medical attention,” Liara said just a little too loudly, trying to jolt Shepard back to reality. For the most terrifying, tiny moment Shepard looked up at Liara and there was nothing in the Commander’s eyes but fear. 

     Then slowly that high-pitched whine began to fade, and other sounds started hitting her ears. Time reached back and yanked her into the present, flowing just as steadily as always. Jay hadn’t realized how numb her body felt until suddenly it wasn’t, sensation flooding back into every little cut and bruise.

     “We have to leave the Sol system,” the Asari insisted, tone gentle but firm. Shepard stared at her blankly for a moment.

     “I know.” Her voice still didn’t sound like her own.

     “The Citadel is our best chance. We can find help there.”

     “Yeah...Yeah, you and EDI see what you can find out about that thing,” Jane said with a jerk of her head towards the burned robot, but didn’t take her eyes away from Kaidan. When they finally reached the Citadel, it took every ounce of her marine discipline to not say to hell with her responsibilities and follow that stretcher to the hospital. When Bailey said there would be a bit of a wait to see the Council, she was halfway down the hall before he could finish his sentence.

     He had been stabilized by the time she got there; small miracles. But the brain trauma had to have been massive, and he was a biotic with an implant. With injuries like these, the concern wasn’t immediate survival, but what was left _to_ survive. Remembering that hitched her breath, and she steeled herself by putting her hands on her hips and taking a slow, deep breath. _What if the Kaidan that comes back isn’t mine? What if this takes away a piece of him we can’t get back?_

     “Kaidan... God,” she shook her head, walking to the side, starting up an aimless sort of pacing. “You are the most...infuriating man I’ve ever met. Can’t you tell when to just back down? Can’t you just let something good happen to to us, just this once, and accept that it’s me, _me_ , I’m back, and I--“ She rubbed her forehead hard, squeezed her eyes shut. This was not the time to argue with him. The argument was _stupid_ , and she was being selfish. 

     “I’m sorry. It’s hard seeing you like this,” she muttered. Harder than she’d ever imagined. Looking at his face...it horrified her. Not from ugliness, but from fear. She remembered other faces that had looked like that, all in a pile. A teenage boy whose head had caved in from being smashed against the concrete, but his face in peaceful repose, just like Kaidan’s. A marine whose blood coated a still serenely pretty face. She’d failed him, failed _again_ , and Shepard’s failures were never small.

     “Don’t know you if you can hear me... but since you can’t tell me to get the hell out either,” a little humor crept into her voice, “I’ll take my chances. Lord knows the next time I’ll have a chance to talk without you interrupting me.

     “I know you don’t trust me. I don’t really understand it...” she paused. “And to be perfectly honest, part of me even hates you for it. But that part can shut up for now. Right now I’m telling you I’ll do what _ever_ it takes to prove you wrong. You haven’t cornered the market on stubbornness. I’m gonna ram so many good deeds up your ass you’ll be puking sunshine and rainbows,” she said with a choked laugh, a flicker of a smile pulling at her lips, then fading away.

     “...So don’t die, Kaidan,” she breathed as she stopped beside his bed. “You’ve got to fight. We need you in this. Seeing you in action again...it reminded me you’re a _hell_ of a soldier. The Alliance could sure use you.” She felt the doctor’s presence behind her, and cursed to herself. There was just a little more she needed to say, and more than anything she didn’t want an audience for this part. She took Kaidan’s hand gently, worried that even a careful touch might hurt him.

     “I could...use you. ...So fight.” Jane awkwardly bobbed her head down and brushed her lips against his fingertips before setting his hand back on his chest, and leaving.


	2. Misstep

 

_James had been shocked to lay eyes on Commander Shepard for the first time. He may have engaged in a little hero worship of her prior. When you knew all that she'd accomplished, how could you not? But the few pictures and vids of her out there didn't come close to meeting her in person. She was…a shrimp. 5’5”, maybe 5’6” at a_ stretch _, her build almost petite compared to most marines. Curves were pretty good for such a small package though, and her voice took him by surprise too; deep, but feminine. Warm like chocolate. This little redhead was the hero of the Skyllian Blitz, the first human Spectre?_

_He was there when Anderson first met up with her, watched the two shake hands, then hug. Saw Anderson tell her she'd done a damn fine job taking down the Collector Base. And that as thanks, the Alliance was taking her ship and relieving her of duty._

       _The Commander's green eyes flashed, and James tensed. Had he used the word shrimp? The fierce-eyed, pacing creature in front of him reminded him more of a stalking jungle cat. He had the uncomfortable thought that, if Shepard got it in her head to try for escape, he might not be able to stop her._

_"This is bullshit, Anderson! After everything I've done? The Alliance was too chicken to take on the Collectors, so me and my people take on all the risk, save humanity, and now you're taking my ship?"_

_"I'm not happy about it either, Shepard. But it's not my call, and I've had to pull every string I've got just to stop them from court martialing you. And don't forget… I know what it's like to lose your ship."_

_"_ This is different! _" Anderson stiffened, and Shepard's lips tightened into a thin line. "Sorry sir. I know that's not true."_  

 _"I don't blame you Shepard. I'm mad as hell too," the Captain said stoically, and turned to face the observation window. James chose that moment to step in._  

_"What the Alliance is doing is wrong, ma'am. I'm here to stop your enemies from getting to you, and to prove you have no further contact with Cerberus." She stopped pacing and turned on her heels to face him, pinning him with her gaze._

_"And who the_ hell _are_ you _?"_

_"This is Lieutenant James Vega. He's your assigned guard detail until you've been cleared."_

_"Guard," she said flatly, looking him up and down critically. James saluted her._

_"Commander," he acknowledged, and Anderson frowned. Shepard stepped towards him slowly._ Madre de Dios, this woman is terrifying, _he thought to himself._

 _"I hope you're aware how fast I could bring you down, Lieutenant," her voice low and serious, still brimming with pent up anger._  

 _"Probably slower than you think and faster than I think, ma'am," he said respectfully. He met her stare for stare._  

_"…Good," she said, the barest hint of a smile pulling at her mouth, and clapped his shoulder. "At ease." She wandered back towards the conference table. Anderson cleared his throat beside them._

_"…About that."_

_"About what?" She asked suspiciously._

_"...I'm sorry I can't do this in private, but as James said, part of his function here is to serve as witness." Anderson turned to face her, his posture tense. Seeing his body language, the Commander braced herself. "You are officially stripped not only of your command of the Normandy, but all your ranks and titles." Shepard's eyes narrowed and the muscles along her jaw rippled. He was expecting some sort of outburst, an explosion of temper, but the Commander was made of sterner stuff than he thought. Though some strain was showing. She planted her hands wide on the table in front of her, blood slowly draining from her face, making her freckles stark. Anderson walked over and put his hand on her shoulder._

_"We'll fight this, Shepard." She clenched her hands slowly, and hung her head, hair hiding her face._ They coulda shot her and it woulda hurt less _._

_"All...I am trying to do…is warn them," she annunciated every word, speaking slowly. Her voice got softer, said something James was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear. "Now what haven't I lost for the Alliance?" Even more quietly, Anderson responded._

_"He'll come around Shepard. Give him time."_  

 

     “Vega,” Shepard acknowledged him as he entered her room. 

     “Commander,” he saluted her. She looked like she was getting ready for bed-- her hair was still wet from showering, towel around her neck, and she wore a plain white t-shirt tucked into a pair of swishy sweatpants. She sat down on the couch in her living area, and picked up a small glass of brandy to sip at. By the looks of the newly opened bottle on the table, she had been nursing just that one glass since they got back to the Normandy.

     “At ease,” she said with an upward nod of her head, and as he relaxed, he took the opportunity to thoroughly inspect the Commander’s quarters.

     “Daaaamn, Lola. This sure is a step up from your last place,” he commented, checking out the expensive-looking ship models in Shepard’s display case. He never would have pegged her as a collector. Her room at Alliance Headquarters was better than a prison cell, but it still was a prison, and for all Shepard had stayed there planet-side longer than she had anywhere else in recent memory, it never accumulated the little things that made a place home.

     “Cerberus built this ship originally. They didn’t frown on creature comforts as much as the Alliance does, and I’m the lucky lady who reaps the benefits,” she said with a mocking toast and short-lived smirk before taking a drink. That’s when Vega stooped to peer below the ship models and really look at her.

     “Sure are,” he said noncommittally, trying to study her without being noticed.

     Something was sure as _hell_ up. James was no genius, but he was smarter than people gave him credit for, and over the past few months he’d learned to get a better read on the Commander than most. Not that those skills would have been necessary, considering whatever the hell it was he saw on that elevator on Mars. That alone would have gotten him to pay attention, but...

     He’d seen Shepard have bad days on Earth-- plenty of them. Most of them she’d gotten through with sarcasm, an oceanic level of patience, certifiably insane workouts, and probably just a dash of self-righteousness. _You can take a lot when you know you’re going to be right in the end._

     But then there were the really bad days. The days he would never, ever tell another soul about, because there was something important about this woman, something worth protecting, and he had a feeling he’d seen things no one else ever had. Things he wasn’t supposed to see; things that, given the choice, he _knew_ she _never_ would have given to him for protection. But that made it all the more important that he be worthy of it.

     This wasn’t as bad as those days, but it could be headed that way. He could see just the tiniest shake of the liquor in her glass, and her posture was defensive, conservative; knees pulled up to her chest, one arm holding herself close. Fuck, he wished he could curl up too. It seemed like every 20 or 30 minutes he would jolt up and remember why they weren’t on Earth anymore. That it was barely over a day ago that they left their beautiful blue and green garden world, watching black and red sores bubble up and burst on its surface.

     “Sit, James. Pour yourself a glass if you want,” she added, gesturing towards an empty glass. He strutted over and took her up on it, sitting not too far away from her to get a nice look at the mostly empty fish tank while he drank. “I’m thinking once we finish on Menae, I’ll order some shore-leave. Or maybe just order a few bottles for the whole crew,” she smirked. “I’d do it now, but from the sounds of things, even leaving now we’ll be lucky to get in view of Palaven at all...” Shepard shook her head as if to clear the little cobwebs of command, all the little details that were always there but she didn’t need at the moment.

     “Nevermind. I won’t keep you long,  just wanted to talk for a second. You’ve done well the past couple days... shuttle incident aside,” she said, looking at him sidelong with raised eyebrows.

     “Hey, it got the job done!”

     “Point being... I know it wasn’t easy for you to leave the fight-- twice. But you followed my orders. It’s good to know that I can trust you.” He leaned forward, forearm on his knee.

     “But you’ve _known_ you can trust me,” he said, unable to keep all of his anger anger out of his voice. What were those 6 months if not proof of his loyalty?

     “It’s different in the field, James. Now I know I can trust you on and off it. It means I can keep you on the ship,” she finished with another grin. “I wasn’t looking forward to trying to kick you off if that wasn’t the case.”

     “ _Try_ is right!” He grinned right along with her, and she held her drink up in the air.

     “Welcome to the Normandy, Lieutenant James Vega!” They clinked glasses and knocked the rest back, Shepard shivering a little as the liquor burned its way down her throat. “You’ll fit in with our band of misfits just fine, I think.” It was a nice little thing for her to do, give him a welcome toast. And he appreciated it. But there was clearly something more that she wanted to discuss, probably something more important. He watched her while she watched those lonely few fish in the tank. He caught her eyelids drifting slowly, slowly down, hand drooping-- he was just about to take her glass from her when she jolted up. 

     “ _Dime_ , how long you been _awake_?” He tried to count it out himself, and it was definitely over 24 hours. “You won’t be any good to anybody if you pass out mid-firefight.”

     “I’m going to sleep soon, mom, just a few more things,” she replied, eyes dancing, voice warm with amusement. God, she could talk him into _any_ thing with that smooth voice. “I also wanted to apologize for that scene on Mars. It was inappropriate,” she finished, and set down her glass. She eyed the bottle like she was considering one last pour, but sighed and thought better of it.

     “Who was that culo anyway? Who did he think he was talking to you like that?” He scowled at the memory of the Major. She didn’t look at James when she answered.

     “Probably the only person who _could_ talk to me like that,” she muttered, more to herself than James, and released her knees to sit normally on the couch.“He served on the first Normandy. We go back.” 

     “Well... I don’t wish anybody ill, Lola. I’m sorry for what happened to him, I want him to pull through. Seems like...maybe he’s an okay guy the rest of the time,” he said conversationally, keeping his tone light. Then he got serious. “But when he gets outta the hospital, you tell that pinche cabrón he better watch his fucking mouth around you.” Shepard threw her head back and laughed, eyes overbright. 

     “It’d be a lot more fun to watch you say it to him,” she said with a grin. “But you’re right. I need sleep. And so do you-- tomorrow we touchdown on Menae, and it won’t be pretty.” She turned around, ostensibly to stash the bottle of liquor, but he had a feeling it was more to look away from him. Something was up with this Alenko guy, but he wasn’t about to push her. But he wasn’t going to be pushed away, either. As the Commander leaned down, he put his hand on her upper back and she froze.

     “Just want you to know, Shepard. I’ve always got your back.” He let his hand linger there for a moment before sliding away and setting down his glass. “Gracias for the drink, and the welcome. Night.”

     “...Night, Vega.”

 

* * *

 

     On the other side of a night’s sleep, Shepard felt much better. Those first ten minutes of barely awake bliss, stumbling from bed to dresser, then down to the mess to blearily nurse a cup of coffee; it all felt the same as any other highly irritating morning. Then, as she read reports on her datapad and the caffeine slowly made its way into her system, “much better” was downgraded to “moderately.” Her second cup of coffee rendered her fully aware, ready to go, and downgraded from “moderately” to “slightly.” _But hey. I’m not dead. That’s always bonus points._

     “Shepard,” Joker rang out over the comm. “We’re coming up on Palaven soon, if you want to take a look. Won’t take much longer to get to Menae, either.”

     “Up and at’em,” Jane said to herself with a stretch and a groan just as James walked into the mess.

     “Shit. Already? Think I got time to make some eggs, Commander?”

     “Not with the pace you cook at, Vega. Grab an MRE, slap on your BDUs and GTFO,” she said good-naturedly, and slapped his behind with her datapad on her way to the elevator. Then she forced herself to keep walking as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary just happened. _What the hell was that!? What were you thinking-- were you thinking at all?_ Clearly _not._ Butt-slapping was a time-honored tradition among all branches of the military. Just... not _as_ typically between members of the opposite sex. Especially when one of them was Commander Shepard. She gripped her coffee mug tightly and made her way to the bridge, glad Vega didn’t say anything.

     “Joker. EDI. What’s up?” Joker spun his chair around to face her and point an accusatory finger at her.

     “What’s _up,_ is that you can get your drug-laden death-juice away from my delicate circuitry, Commander.” Shepard sighed heavily and took an extra step back from the bridge console.

     “Y’know, you’re _gonna_ have to let that go one day, Joker,” she said, tone cajoling.

     “My _ass_ I will! Everything was sticky and slow for _days_ because of you!”

     “To be fair, Jeff, Commander Shepard only stumbled because you were not paying attention to the stability of the ship,” EDI chipped in.

     “See? Not my fault,” Shepard jumped on her chance. There was nothing worse than a cranky pilot with even more reason to be cranky at you. Joker spun away from her.

     “I will not be ganged up on by you ladies. You’re juuust gonna have to go take your frustrations out on a bunch of Reapers.” 

     “That’s a plan I can get on board with.”

     “...” Joker’s hand stopped and hovered just above his holo-display.

     “...What? What is it?” Jane asked, eyes narrowing at the growing silence. Finally, EDI spoke up.

     “I believe it would be more appropriate to say, that it is a plan that you can get _off board_ with. Or perhaps for.”

     “Hohoooo, damn EDI!” Joker groaned, punched his fists in the air and looked over his shoulder at the Commander. “I wasn’t sure I should go for that one, it was such low-hanging fruit! But she always knows what to do,” he added endearingly with a wave of his hand.

     “... Are you serious?” Shepard asked flatly.

     “Thank you, Jeff,” EDI replied politely.

     “That was _terrible_. Don’t teach our AI bad habits, Joker.”

     “Oh, hey, hey I’ve got it Commander. We can break you of your coffee habit and take out a bunch of Reapers! We’ll just throw you out there before you’ve had your morning cup, and all those extra grouchy superpowers will help you clean ‘em out!” Joker knew Shepard was a few feet behind him, but still, her sudden, silent appearance right next to his face, sipping from her mug, nearly sent him a foot out of his chair. 

     “Joker?” She asked, her deep, honeyed voice poisonously sweet. “You can go ahead and take my coffee mug. Out of my cold. Dead. Hands.” She gave him a big, threatening, toothy smile, and clapped him on the shoulder.

     “Jesus Christ Shepard, sometimes you straight-up scare the shit out of me,” Jeff muttered mutinously.

     “Impressive stealth, Commander,” EDI acknowledged. “I could only pick up your movement through heat signature.”

     “Why thank you. Both of you. What was that Jack used to say...”

     “The only difference between a soldier and a serial killer is that we get paid for it,” Joker parroted in sad monotone.

      “That’s the one.”

     “Yeah, but we don’t get paid very _well_ ,” he complained.

      “It wouldn’t be service to our planet if we could make a _good_ living at it. Anyway--“ She had been about to leave the bridge when she reallysaw it; Palaven. It had been growing in their field of vision for some time, but it wasn’t until then that they could really start seeing the shape and extent of the destruction. “Shit.”

     “...Yeah,” Jeff’s jaw clenched, and he began taking more evasive maneuvers. The Normandy was difficult to get a lock on, but that didn’t mean they were invincible amongst the hordes of Reapers. Shepard flipped on the comm.

     “Cortez, prep the shuttle. James, Liara, suit up, we’re heading out. Time to find us a Primarch.”

 

* * *

 

     Garrus suppressed the urge to sound a victory trill when he saw Shepard; it wouldn’t be proper, surrounded by all the death like they were. But after this whole thing was over, he was going door to door, spaceport to spaceport, sending petitions to whoever it was that dealt with such things to make Jane Shepard the patron saint of lost causes. Or maybe it would be the patron saint of lost causes who no longer wanted to be lost causes-- he wasn’t entirely sure how the whole thing worked. He would have to ask Shepard. He finished explaining the current situation; out with the old Primarch, in with the new; a one Adrien Victus.

     “So I don’t know if he’s our kind of Primarch, Shep, but he’s our kind of soldier.”

     “We need that now more than ever. I can’t tell you how much I wish Anderson were at the Citadel instead of Udina,” Jane sneered elegantly at the memory of Udina’s face and simpering voice. “But then Anderson wouldn’t be helping Earth hold out, and we’d be even more screwed,” she mused as she loaded a new heat sink into her sniper rifle, preparing for the next wave.

     “I heard about Earth, Shepard. I’m sorry,” Garrus said simply, but empathetically. He touched her shoulder briefly, earning a brief smile from her that heartened him. He worried about the woman.

     Then Shepard’s lip curled up in self-disgust as she looked up at Palaven. 

     “I’m so sorry too, Garrus,” she said harshly. Then there was the telltale flashes, bangs, and eerie scrabbling, clawing sounds that accompanied the arrival of more Husks. How he hated the things; they were almost more psychological warfare than anything. Terrifying, screechy things that weren’t too dangerous individually, but had a nasty habit to swarm and overwhelm, and they could keep going even after a shotgun blast to the chest. Luckily he preferred to snipe headshots.

     Garrus thought there’d been a mistake in how he interpreted Shepard’s expression before, the flash of self-loathing, self-disgust when she’d apologized for Palaven. The Turian had said sorry in empathy; Jane had said it like she was really, truly sorry for what she’d done. Then he noticed Shepard had cloaked, and appeared in front of them dragging a Marauder over her cover and snapping his neck. She quickly disappeared and reappeared again to stab another under its ribs with her omni-tool. _Damn_ , he thought. He went from driving the creatures off from the camp to trying to protect Shepard. She was a creature of wrath and destruction, wreaking havoc in her wake. He could _certainly_ appreciate that. But if he hadn’t been following her, covering and sniping specifically for her, countless creatures would have been able to shoot her in the back. It was stressful, to say the least. During a lull, he finally caught up to her.

    “What the hell are you doing?” He grabbed Shepard’s arm, and she quirked an eyebrow.

    “Killing Reapers,” she answered in a tone that better suited something like, ‘oh, not much, what are you up to?’ 

    “And I’m all for that, Shepard, but you’re being reckless,” he said, mandibles flaring. 

    “Maybe I’m in a reckless sort of mood,” she replied grimly

     “I know things look bad. But that’s no reason to fight like you’ve got nothing left to live for,” he shook her lightly to drive it home, and to his surprise, Shepard looked away. That wasn’t the woman he knew.

    “Hey,” he said more quietly, entreating, “what happened? This isn’t just about Earth, or Palaven, _is_ it?”

     “I did this, Garrus,” she said, pounding her chest with her fist. “This is because I didn’t convince them, didn’t bring enough evidence, didn’t fight hard enough to prove the Reapers were coming--So it’s my mess to clean up.” His mandibles twitched several times in rapid succession, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. She couldn’t be crazy enough to blame herself for the idiocy of the Council.

    “Sweet Spirits around us, Shepard--

    “Next wave INCOMING!” James roared from his cover, bursting over to throw a grenade and shotgun an incoming Brute.

    “You know that’s bull, and we’re talking about it later!” Garrus said right before he dove and rolled to another area of cover. Shepard proceeded to look him dead in the eye and level her gun at him. “What the hell--“ She fired, and with a crack, the Husk that had been climbing up the cliff beside him ratcheted back, and then slowly fell back down the crevice. Shepard grinned at him.

    “When I want you dead, Vakarian, you’ll know it before I point the gun at you!” She shouted, entirely too amused, and then started to mow down Husks that were threatening to overwhelm Vaga before he could take care of the remaining Brute.

    “I appreciate the courtesy!” He called back sardonically. For his part, he fired a concussive shot into the beast’s head, giving James a chance to hold his shotgun to the creatures throat and unload.

    “OORAH!” The lieutenant bellowed, and kicked the corpse in the gut to make sure it didn’t fall on top of him. Garrus applauded  the enthusiasm.

    “I know you’d do the same for me!” _Spirits, now I remember why I thought, for a few months back, that I missed the fighting._ Shepard shot off Incinerate, lighting the last Marauder on fire and flushing it out of cover in a panic. Garrus took the shot, almost killing it; James finished it off with a rifle-butt to its skull. “Nice!” Shepard commented. _I missed some of the excitement, yes. But mostly..._ He watched the Commander nudge her lieutenant as a job well done, and the younger marine returned the gesture in kind. The younger, almost foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier marine-- and completely bowled over the unsuspecting Shepard. Garrus barely held back a bark of laughter as Vega panicked.

     “Oh _shit_! Sorry Commander, I, uh...” He helped her up to her feet.

     “I’m not made of _glass_ , lieutenant,” she explained patiently as she got up. “I should have been paying attention. So relax, I’m not going to do something horrible in retaliation while we’re on mission.” Vega’s shoulders visibly dropped in relief. As soon as he started walking away, Shepard casually stuck her sniper rifle between his legs and shoved hard, making him faceplant and swear up a storm.

    “Qué chingados?! Come on Lola, don’t be so mean!” James said, more teasing than begging.

    "Compulsive lying is part of any good Commander's repertoire, remember that if you get promoted," Shepard said in a mentoring way, and brushed some dirt off her rifle.

_I missed this messed up family._

 

* * *

 

     Upon returning to the Normandy with the newly anointed Primarch Victus, what struck Shepard most was that even in the midst of so much turmoil, so much death, as so many things changed--so much remained the same. She furrowed her brow while staring at all of the reports she had yet to fill out and those she had yet to read; it was hard to believe that this war with the Reapers had stakes any higher than any other. 

     Report on the attempt to secure help from the Council, subsequent failure; finished and filed. Report on overtures from Councilor Sparatus, pending multi-species diplomatic summit, and the retrieval of the Turian Primarch; filed. Highly classified report on the acquisition of a robotic body by the AI known as EDI; filed. Requisitions request for additional funds and supplies for the crew of the Normandy; filed, and, she expected, soon to be denied. Jane sighed deeply and pushed her chair away from her desk, groaning, and twisting to crack her back an ungodly number of times.

_In the end, what kills me won’t be Reapers, it won’t be gunshots; it’ll be the monumental boredom of filing reports that makes my brain wither and rot. ...No, wait. Gunshot wound might still be a cause. Boredom has been known to cause bullet wounds to the brain. Lots of them._

     Shepard sighed again and started stripping to her sleepwear. She’d been awake long enough and looked forward to passing out and sleeping through at least a quarter of the shore-leave she was ordering. The rest would unfortunately be preoccupied with politics, requisitions, and reports. There was no rest for the wicked or for Marines. With all the lights out except for the dim, shimmering glow of her aquarium, occupied by just a few fish, Shepard collapsed on her bed and was quickly claimed by sleep.

_Jay craned her neck back. It was only a little past noon, but the sky was already a deep gunmetal grey, clouds gathering in big, round mammatus puffs that signaled an oncoming storm. Out on the frontier of Mindoir they were still adjusting to speed of their severe weather, big storms that appeared quickly and devastated without mercy. The last tornado had taken the neighboring homesteaders’ son and much of their livestock; the Shepards’ experienced no damage at all. The night after they paid their respects to the neighbor boy, Adam, Jay’s family gathered all of their children and sat them through an in depth lesson on the weather. Adam hadn’t known any better, but if the Shepards had any say, their children would always know when to take shelter. To the Shepard children’s dismay, the lessons continued with lectures at least once a week._

_Normally Jane and Joshua, the two youngest and the quickest learners, would mock the lessons in hushed tones or with the rudimentary sign language they’d developed between themselves. Today though, Jay was alone, and she was glad she’d paid at least some attention. On the ground it seemed completely still; Mindoir’s Autumn, paired with recent vicious winds, had stripped the trees of much of their leaves, and those piles on the ground remained motionless. The crowns of the trees told a different story, however, whipping and whispering violently. Those high winds were what caught her attention._

_There was a sudden flash of light, and Jay covered her eyes. If there was lightning already, she was in trouble this deep in the woods. Already the air was leeching all of the warmth from her bones, buffeting her with cold at every turn. Jay followed the path to her home, nervous but sure she would make it back, until she heard it. A little boy’s giggle._ _She looked around herself nervously as thunder cracked above. There wasn’t much time to spare, but she wouldn’t leave a child alone in these woods._

_She jogged after the sound while trying to remember all of the tracking tips her papa had taught her. There-- she could see his pale gray form running away from her. To Jane’s supreme annoyance, she could barely run fast enough to keep up with him no matter how hard she worked. She felt like she were running through deep water._

_“Hey, wait!” She called out, knowing she’d never reach him at her current pace. Jay thought she’d almost caught up with him when she peeked around the trunk of a gigantic tree, but he was nowhere to be seen._

_“I can help you!” She called, and suddenly he was right next to her looking up at a sky flashing red and white. Horror struck the air hard from her lungs. She wanted to run but seemed stuck to the ground, while the little boy had no such compulsions. He bolted._

_“Stop! STOP!” The terror was starting to gnaw from her heart up her throat. If  she could grab him soon, they could get away, but he was too fast. Jane tried to run, to sprint, but it seemed to make no difference until finally an accidental look to her left revealed the boy right next to her._

_“Here, with me!” She commanded. “I’ll keep you safe!” She promised, and held her hand out to him._

_“You can’t save me.” It was like a shotgun blast to the gut. She recoiled as a bright flash of red preceded the little boy being slowly consumed by fire. Jay screamed._

     Shepard shot straight up in bed, shirt damp with sweat, hair mussed and spiking in every direction. She ran her hands along her sheets, her clothes, her hair, something to keep herself sane and connected to the real world. Her eyes drifted up to the window panel above her, stars drifting in and out of her vision. It grated on her nerves. Shepard’s eyes drifted to her clock. _0500? Are you fucking kidding me? Only three hours of sleep._ But she’d had periods of her life contaminated by nightmares before and learned how to deal with them. For her, at least, attempting to fall back asleep was not an option. With a quiet sigh she got out of bed, pulled on a sports bra, and headed to the gym.

     She blessed EDI as she took the elevator and walked through the low-lit corridors before reaching the gym and her treadmill of choice. Most ships she’d ever served on had one glaring pain in her ass-- lighting that either barely adjusted or didn’t adjust at all to the time of day it was supposed to be. EDI kept “night-time” lighting low, adjusting tone and brightness to suit individual crew members as they passed. The AI would mess with lighting and sleep schedules in order to sync more active squad members to the planets they were landing on, but generally kept individual preference in mind. That made a world of difference to the early-morning-crankiness-prone Jane. Nothing irritated her more than LEDs at full brightness at planet-side pre-dawn, rubbing it in her face that the _day_ was ready, so why wasn’t she?

    But more importantly, it made her 0500 jog just a little less grating. Here she could lose herself in physical activity, and run and run until she was either tired enough to pass out, or the new day had begun. She started at a brisk pace, staring at nothing in particular on the nearest wall.

    She needed to forget that little boy. There had been no time to crawl into those ducts after him, and even so, he’d made it to the shuttle. Even if Jane had grabbed him, protected him, she would have put him on an evac shuttle before dragging him aboard the Normandy, which meant he still would have died. ...Still, though, she couldn’t get his face or voice out of his head. It hadn’t even been a question in his head that Shepard couldn’t save him. It was simply a fact of the universe. She clenched and unclenched her fists, rolled out her neck, and increased her pace.

    Seeing Earth burn had filled her with fury, with determination. As the Normandy began its ascent she was absolutely certain that, even if the odds were against them, even if they didn’t win, she would make the Reapers pay in some fashion. Seeing that shuttle fall, though, was like someone had slammed into Shepard from behind, knocking her off her center. She stayed standing, but she was off balance, and there hadn’t been time to steady herself before the next hit. 

 _Kaidan_ , she thought, pained. _The older I get the more I think God must exist, because this level of sadism is too artful to be random._ To see him again, better than he’d ever been; stronger, more confident, no longer unsure around her-- _Well, not in the way he used to be, now he’s just unsure about me down to the core of my soul--_ and that better man loathed her. But maybe she was in the same seat he was. Maybe she cared for a man who wasn’t there anymore, because _that_ man may have walked away from her, but he never would have been so cruel. _Shit, I almost hate him. But I’m so damn scared for him, I can’t be cold, I’d never be able to..._ Fuck, _this isn’t working like I wanted it to._

     She punched at the treadmill, setting the speed even higher. She turned her attention on the proper stride, weight distribution, foot-strike pattern, everything to reduce the chance of injury. She moved on to her breath, trying to move into, and live in, her inhales and exhales. _In, out. In, out. Think of nothing but your breath. In, out. In, out._

 

_Breath.  Hot on her neck; large body radiating heat against her back._

_“Let me do something for you.” And then she was so warm with those arms wrapped around her, with the hands on her hip and waist, the lips against her ear. Comforted._

 

     Shepard made a wordless noise of frustration, stripped off her sweat-soaked shirt, and tossed it aside. 

     “How did I let this become my fucking life,” she muttered breathlessly to herself, and finally upped the machine to sprinting speed. Jane dared her maddening brain to try and think of anything else while she was practically running for her life. _Just go._

_Go._

_Go._

    “Hey Lola, where’s the fire?” She’d been so focused that the rest of the world had finally, finally faded away. James’ words made her whip her head around with a gasp of surprise, and her foot hit the treadmill just wrong. She fell, smashing her chin against the tread before it whipped her off and sent her sprawling.  “Mierda!” Vega laughed briefly before it occurred to him that she might be hurt. He hurried over. “Fuck, you alright?”

     “Ugh...cage a little rattled,” Shepard propped herself up with her arms. She tried shaking her head a little to clear it, but that just intensified the ringing ache in her head. She looked puzzled for a moment, clearly checking something in her mouth with her tongue-- then she turned her head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood. “Bit my tongue. Couple floorburns from the landing after my flight, otherwise I’m fine.” The lieutenant offered a hand, which she waved off and got to her feet by herself.  _Distraction achieved, I suppose._

    “Seriously though, Commander. That was a little hilarious. Scary for a second, but...hilarious,” he said with a grin.

     “Glad I could amuse you, lieutenant,” she said dryly, gingerly touching her jaw and wincing. She suppressed the urge to pop him one under the jaw in retaliation.  A draft of air against her sweaty body made her suddenly very aware that her white sports bra was absolutely soaked, and that she probably looked terrible _before_ her attempt at exercise. Jane took the opportunity to walk over to the treadmill and shut it off, the space suddenly very quiet. She tracked down her shirt, but after a brief inner debate, decided that putting the sweaty thing back on would be more disgusting than James pretending he wasn’t looking at her nipples. She slung it over her shoulder and turned around. “What are you doing in here so early, anyway?” Shepard asked, hands on her hips as her chest heaved, still out of breath.

     “Not really  so early. This is normally about when I start my first workout of the day,” Vega said with a grin and a flexing of his biceps. She rolled her eyes, then flicked her gaze over to the clock. 

     “0700?” She asked, taken aback.

    “Yeah...How long you been in here? You look, uh...” James hesitated and scratched behind his ears, eyes narrowed, trying to find the right words, “rough,” he finally settled on. _I wonder how offensive the first choice was if that’s what he ended up with._

     “Well...2 hours I guess,” she blew out her breath and shook some of the sweat out of her hair with her hand. “Couldn’t sleep,” she added, noticing his questioning eyes. 

    “You loco, Lola. Here,” he said, taking the towel from around his neck and holding it out to her. “You look like you need this more than I will,” he said, looking directly down at her chest and wiggling his eyebrows. Her base instinct was to punch him in the face, but with James, that was letting him win.

    “They’re certainly better at standing at attention than some lieutenants I know,” Jane replied mildly, provoking a bout of laughter from James.

    “Ohhhh, _shit_! That’s a pretty good o-- hey, where you going?” He asked as Shepard started walking away. “You forgot the towel!”

     “Back to work! I've got one in my room!” She waved her hand back at him without turning around.

    “...But people will see!” He said, scandalized.

    “You’re the only one who cares, James!” She called back in a mocking, sing-song tone.

    “That’s---not--- _Shepard!_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cobbled together from the knowledge of some spanish-speaking friends and the internet, I bring you, in order of appearance--What is James Saying?
> 
> Madre de Dios - Mother of God ("Madre de Dios, this woman is terrifying.")  
> Dime - Tell me ("Dime, how long you been awake?")  
> Culo - Ass ("Who was that culo anyway? Who did he think he was talking to you like that?")  
> Pinche cabrón - A little less clear to me, but most literally "fucking bastard." From what I read it doesn't translate directly to "mother fucker" but has a kind of equivalency. (“But when he gets outta the hospital, you tell that pinche cabrón he better watch his fucking mouth around you.”)  
> Qué chingados - What the Fuck ( “Qué chingados?! Come on Lola, don’t be so mean!”)
> 
> My apologies if any of these are wrong, I've done my best to research everything and make sure it's correct, but I'm not a spanish-speaker so there is bound to be a little trouble.


	3. Recalibration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those folks who didn’t often use sniper rifles in ME3, quick rundown! The Widow is a gigantic fucking rifle that is incredibly heavy and can fire once before reloading. The Black Widow does slightly less damage, but can fire three times before reloading. If you equip the Black Widow with the extended barrel, it appears to be almost as tall as female Shepard. So carrying it around looks kind of absurd. ~The More You Know!~

 

     Shepard sat with Garrus in his usual haunt, where they were both stripping and cleaning their sniper rifles.

     “Did you wanna go for time on these?” Garrus asked, one corner of his mouth twitching up in a competitive smirk. 

     “I’d be glad to school you,” Jane answered with a grin, “but unfortunately it’ll have to wait. I’ve got something interesting and I don’t want to rush it.” She reached behind her chair to drag out a long, very heavy duffel bag. “You know much I miss my Black Widow?”

     “Like a limb, I’d hazard,” Garrus responded, leaning forward to look. “Especially since I doubt we have the credits for a nice, shiny new one.”

     “Correct. But Cortez found _this_ shoved away in a crate in the hangar.” She hauled the bag up to the table with a loud clang, and unzipped the bag dramatically, revealing a giant sniper rifle in innumerable pieces. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Shepard beamed at Garrus like a proud mama. Garrus’ mandibles twitched just once, while the rest of his expression remained static. 

     “Uh...” He looked from Shepard’s face back down at the contents of the bag and back up.  “Well, that’s certainly a...lot of _stuff_...” he said, struggling to find something positive about the beat up and clunky parts in the bag. The Commander frowned and sighed.

     “Garrus, remind me later that I need to teach you how to lie to women.”

     “Come on, that’s an unfair hit. Some of those parts look practically ancient; way too heavy. Are you going to sell the scrap metal and put it in your savings?” He mentally filed away that, despite his protests, he would still be interested in that lesson.

     “Ye of so little faith! This is a first generation Widow...the Black Widow’s overweight, underachieving older brother. I’m going to piece it back together and see what I can modify to make it work better for me. Lighter, more capacity, smaller. And _you_ are going to help me.” 

    “And now, like Commander Shepard so many times before me, I am called upon to perform miracles,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, hand dramatically over his heart. Damn the woman’s ability to rope him into schemes.

    “Shouldn’t be too hard for you, _Archangel_ ,” she started removing pieces from the bag, placing them on the table approximately  where they would fit together. “And I brought bribes, if my thanks aren’t enough incentive.” From the duffle, she pulled out a case of dextro-beer. Shepard had, during a celebration after defeating the Collectors, inadvertently discovered that she she could drink dextro-amino alcohol without issue, and that there was actually a tang to it that she enjoyed, but she preferred to be careful. She cracked open one for Garrus and handed it to him.

     “Ahh, excellent,” Garrus said, pleasure smoothing the flange in his voice as he took a sip. “Just don’t expect too much, Shepard. The modern BW already borders on too heavy for you, even _with_ advanced ultralight materials. But maybe we could cannibalize some parts from the Mantis... We could try forming a new casing with plastic polymers?” Garrus scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Normally it would be prohibitively expensive, but since the alternative in this case is a quarter million credits...” 

     “That would leave its guts a little vulnerable, wouldn’t it?” Jane pulled over a large trunk filled with different attachments and upgrade materials, pulling out two different scopes and comparing them to the Widow’s original.

     “The polymers can be very strong. Of course, this is you we’re talking about, so anything but Silaris style plating is going to leave the rifle vulnerable,” he said smugly.

     “Ha ha,” Shepard said with raised brows, unamused, and chose a new scope and put it on the table, putting the other two back.

     “The bigger issue is going to be recoil. If we decrease the ruggedness of the materials, so to speak, the shock absorption will be reduced, which means all that power is slamming right back into your shoulder.” She subconsciously started rolling her right shoulder back, remembering how it could ache after a long day of fighting. Garrus reached across the table and started placing and rearranging parts within the framework she’d created, effortlessly slipping into her pattern with an ease forged by years of fighting together. He’d missed this. If he were honest with himself, the Normandy felt more like home than home.

     “And the only reason I could handle the recoil before is the Cerberus upgrades, too. I suppose I can just switch to heavier shoulder plating. But I was thinking--if I wear the Kuwashii Visor, I can get away with a much weaker, lighter scope,” she proposed, holding up a small scope, and placing it in on the table. 

     “Viable. It’s a shame to be canceling out the normal benefits of the Visor, though,” Vakarian mourned. Their pace picked up, worked in concert with each other, hands reaching past and over each other for parts and placement, never getting in the others way, until all the parts in the bag were exhausted. Shepard stood, observing the myriad parts with one hand on her hip. 

     “Hell Garrus...I’ve really missed talking shop.” 

     “Nothing else I’d rather be doing, Commander,” Garrus said with a hint of pride in his voice, mandibles shifting agreeably, and clinked his glass against the table. “Even if this rifle is a... What is it Joker likes to say? _Clusterfuck_.” A smirk spread slowly across Shepard’s face as she sat down and leaned back, kicking her feet up on top the upgrades trunk.

     “The only thing that would make this better is being out on a sunny porch somewhere.”

     “Then that’s just what we’ll have to do after all this nonsense is done with,” Garrus said firmly, sparking a short bark of laughter from Jane. 

     “Nonsense indeed,” she concurred as she opened her omni-tool to inspect a new message. “And Commander Shepard has very little tolerance for nonsense.”

     “Oh, Commander Shepard is speaking in the third person now?”

     “Only if Garrus keeps calling her out on it...” She trailed off as she read through the message, and after a moment grabbed one of the dextro-beers and started drinking.

     “...What’s that, Shepard?” Vakarian asked, eyes narrowing.

     “A message,” she replied, voice stilted and face suddenly closed off.

     “I’d’ve never guessed,” he said sarcastically, provoking a sigh from her.

     “It’s from Kaidan. He’s awake.” Garrus cocked his head just slightly, appraising her.

     “I thought you’d be happy.” 

     “I’m relieved. I _am_ happy.”

     “Forgive me for being forward, but you don’t really _sound_ happy.” Shepard looked away and took another drink of beer, her mouth pulled into a thin, tight line. He didn’t like this. It was too bad that Kaidan had been hurt; if only because Garrus would have liked to have a chat with him before Shepard. An _interesting_ and _compelling_ chat, that would _not_ involve guns. But it might have implied them.

     “I am. It’s just...complicated,”she said, then snorted in self-derision. “I hate that phrase.” Garrus weighed his next words carefully. Shepard was intensely private; not long after they’d met, he realized how artfully she could maneuver around personal questions and direct them back at the inquirer, revealing next to nothing about herself without them even noticing. If he hadn’t worked in C-Sec, seen the best liars and con-men, it might’ve taken him years to catch on. 

     So, much of the time he spared her the effort and simply didn’t ask; he suspected it was part of why they’d become good friends. Still, he knew some of her background and knew the enormity of her responsibilities, and he worried about his friend’s isolation. Being with Kaidan had done her good. Losing him had done her ill, and maybe even left her worse off than before. So he hazarded a question, determined not to be outmaneuvered.

     “I’ve only heard bits and pieces, but...What happened, Shepard? What’s going on with you two?”

     “...” She sipped, still staring at the wall to Garrus’ right. He leaned forward and said nothing, waiting patiently. “You’ve experienced something like that, I’m sure. Something like with your father-- for all your disagreements, you still care.” It was always tempting to be drawn in, to talk about one’s self, a fact Shepard exploited ruthlessly. But he said nothing. “Which reminds me...have you heard anything from him yet?” She asked, finally looking at him again. Maybe thinking that she’d started steering him away. He ignored it.

    “Shepard. A personal question, and answer. Just this once.” A grimace flashed across her face so quickly he thought he might have imagined it. “A favor, to put me at ease,” he entreated, and finally, she relented.

     “He still doesn’t think I’m me. Thinks I’m something, someone else, or a tool of Cerberus.”

     “Still?” Garrus asked, legitimately surprised. Kaidan had always been reasonable-- certainly, seeing Shepard on Horizon must have been a shock, and that made people do funny things. Losing her had changed him. But... “It’s been almost a year.”

     “You were _there_ , Garrus. He ended it.” 

     “But then that message?” _It would have been better for him not to send it._

     “We never talked. He said, but.... we never did.”

     “I thought better of him than that,” Garrus said, mandibles clicking in disdain. “What a fool.” 

     “I used words a little stronger than ‘ _fool_ ,’” she replied, voice gravelly. “Do you know what the stupidest part is? I kept waiting. Hoped he might say something before we went through the Omega Relay. When the Alliance locked me up, I should have figured it out two months into my stay that it wasn’t happening, but I thought there was a chance he was on mission or that the Alliance was making it difficult to contact me. Then three months in, my defender sent out a request that he be a character witness for me.” She drained over half of her drink. 

     “He said no. No message, no explanation, just formally declined to participate.” She finished it; Garrus opened fresh bottles for them both, and she took it without comment. Shepard flitted between expressions, conflicted, angry, sad-- like she wanted to say something more, something in particular, but was warring with herself. 

     “...That was a bad day. I reacted--I don’t think I’ve ever been so...childish.” His eye ridges lifted slightly in surprise; it was difficult to imagine Shepard of all people being childish.

     “I’m sorry we couldn’t talk. Trying to prepare Palaven for the Reapers was more time-consuming than I could imagine.”

     “It’s not your fault. And I was lucky; James was there.” Garrus’s narrowed briefly, and he filed that away too. He liked the new edition to the Normandy, so far, but he didn’t know much about him. And if he were that involved with Shepard’s life, Garrus rather thought he should find out more.

     “Honestly, I might’ve gone insane without him.” A hint of amusement entered her eyes. “You might be surprised to hear this, but I don’t think I’m cut out for imprisonment, even if the cage is gilded.”

     “I’m utterly shocked,” he commented dryly. 

     “But the day we left Earth, I still smiled at Kaidan, and...told him it was good to see him,” the pitch of her voice rose toward the end, almost in surprise at her own actions. An exhale of frustration, a swig of beer. “I’m pathetic.”

     Garrus sat straight back, alarmed. 

     “Don’t be ridiculous, Shepard!”

     “That’s the only word for someone who keeps pining after a man months after he’s made it clear he doesn’t want her.” That part she said with some disdain, but mostly without rancor, like reciting a fact. 

     “It’s not pathetic to fight for someone you care about,” he told her sternly. “And I think there must be more to it than that. He’s been a damn fool, but I know he loves you. When you died... I’ve never seen a man so devastated. So at least, until you talk...”

     “He loves _that_ woman, and he doesn’t think I’m her. ...Sometimes I hate him for it,” she added bitterly. She took another drink. “But then he goes and nearly dies.”

     “That does put a kink in hating someone,” Garrus commented, trying to limit the amusement in his voice.

     “You have no idea, Garrus,” she said seriously, finally looking him right the in the eye. “Thinking he’s going to die, and realizing no matter much I might hate him, it doesn’t matter because of how much I... ...losing him would wreck me. Realizing I don’t have the pride to tell him I hate him in the face of that.” Garrus leaned forward to really look at her, trying to puzzle out the expression on her face. Self-loathing and something else; he wasn’t sure what. He had become excellent at recognizing human facial expressions, but this particular human was difficult for even her own species to figure out. 

     “Realizing  that you,” he paused for a moment, remembering Shepard’s reticence for a certain word, “care about him more than you care about being right? I’m not insulting you, Shepard,” he clarified as she opened her mouth to speak in protest. “For someone in command, for someone who has an unusually high rate of being right _and_ not being believed about it, that says a lot about you, a lot of _good_ things.”

     “If only Kaidan could be so observant.”

     “...He’s had a hard time of it, Shepard.”

     “...I know. But so have I. And I’m scared as hell about what he’s going to say when I go visit him,” Shepard admitted frankly.

     “So. In spite of everything you’ll go?”

     “I’ll fight with that stubborn bastard until the end of time, if that’s what it takes,” she said firmly, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. Garrus relaxed back in his chair, pleased to hear the confidence creeping back into his friend’s voice.

     “I think he’s smart enough to not lose you a second time. Just...don’t let him use brain damage as an excuse for being an ass.”

     “Garrus, that’s not funny,” Shepard replied, frowning.

     “It’s a _little_ funny,” he whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward and twitching his mandibles, inviting her into the joke.

     “Only if he still remembers how to get dressed.” She shook her head in disappointment at the growing grin on her face.

     “If he doesn’t, wouldn’t that be a bonus for you?” Garrus asked thoughtfully. 

     “You’re a bad man, Garrus Vakarian,” she said, gesturing at him with her beer-hand and taking another drink.

     “I try my best,” he said, entirely too pleased with himself. “Just...try not to be so tough on yourself for having _feelings,_ Shepard _._ It’s really not that crazy,” he added in a sardonically hushed tone.

     “Okay wise one. I’ll see what I can do, but that’s enough of this; we have a lot of work to do,” she said while surveying the mess on the table. 

     “Don’t worry. After repairing this nightmare, repairing your relationship will be a breeze,” Garrus promised. They began constructing the rifle, talking while finishing the case of beer and whittling down the hours until they reached the Citadel.

 

* * *

 

     Kaidan’s heart leapt as he recognized the woman who had appeared in his doorway. 

     “Hey,” Shepard greeted him easily, a small smile on her face. He would’ve almost said a nervous smile, but maybe that was wishful thinking. He struggled to sit up straighter, look more presentable when he said hello.

     “Shepard, hey! You just missed snack time. ..Actually, that’s probably a good thing. Thanks for coming,” he said with a smile, his eyes flitting across Jane’s face, drinking in her features. He hadn’t been sure she would come-- in fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised, wouldn’t have blamed her if she hadn’t. But he was so happy that she had. He was still worried, still confused about parts of her, but he knew for certain  he couldn’t let things continue in the vein that they had been.

     “No problem. What did Udina want? Still thinking about the Spectre position?” She asked, pulling up a chair to sit next to Kaidan, resting her hands on his hospital bed. He looked around the room for a moment, thinking.

     “Well, it’s a big honor. A huge responsibility. Just...need to be sure,” he explained. 

     “It does change a lot of things,” she offered. “If you were anyone else, I’d warn you about getting into a lot more dangerous situations once you join, but...” She smirked. “I think you’ve already been exposed to that part.” He laughed.

     “That’s for sure. You know, I never dreamed of being a Spectre. Didn’t think I had a chance in hell, even once you became the first human to join their ranks.”

     “Really?” Jane blinked. 

     “Yeah, I always felt...anonymous, almost. Being recognized is crazy.  But even as amazing as this opportunity is...I’m not sure I want it,” Kaidan admitted.

     “How come?” Shepard asked, curious and surprised, and leaned forward, weight on her forearms, even closer to him. Seven hells, but she was too damn easy to talk to. From day one those calm green eyes looking right at him, and only him, waiting to hear his story. And as always he couldn’t help but oblige. 

     “Spectres don’t answer to anyone but the Council, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. Even you, Shepard...sometimes you’ve used Spectre authority to skirt what I thought was right.” Something flickered across her expression that he couldn’t place. “I’m not sure that’s an organization I want to be a part of.” She laced her fingers together and paused a moment before speaking.

     “Think about it a little deeper, Kaidan. That worry is why you’ve got to do it-- you can be the example, lead the way. At the very least take the missions someone else might have done the wrong way and do them right.”

     “Yeah...you know, I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he said thoughtfully. It would be more influence than he’d ever dreamed of having. _Maybe, just maybe he could set that example for you to follow._ A smile tugged at one corner of Shepard’s lips, and then she reached behind her and grabbed a bottle out of a bag.

     “But hey, I got you this,” she handed it to him and he inspected it; a bottle of top-notch, fabled “Medicinal Whiskey.” The idea always made him chuckle.

     “Wow, thanks Shepard. This’s really great,” Kaidan smiled at her, surprised and touched. Whiskey was much better than flowers, and much more Shepard.

     “Just a little pick me up,” Jay didn’t quite smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkled up. It made him feel brave enough to take a chance.

     “Maybe when I get out we can crack it open and celebrate,” he suggested, and her guard sprung up, face suddenly unreadable. Kaidan felt a pang in his chest. He’d seen those walls slam down on others, but never felt the sting of it himself. He continued quickly, “I am so ready to get out of here, Shepard. You can’t tell, but I’m tied to this bed by medical red tape. I mean Doc, Doc says I’m good to go, but then she always finds just _one_ more test to run.”

     “You doin okay?” Some of the tension seemed to drain from her posture, and he barely kept himself from sighing in relief.

     “My implant got a little...rattled, so the Doc just wants me to keep the biotics offline for a bit. It’s no big deal,” Kaidan assured her, though Jane still appeared skeptical.  

     “Need me to break you out?” _But then, skepticism never stopped Jane Shepard from doing something a little reckless._

     “I’ll let you know,” he replied, and their conversation lulled. It was so different than he remembered, but at the same time, so familiar, falling into their old pattern with a healthy dose of distance. The dissonance was painful. He looked back at her face, at her eyes, trying to read her. _It never used to be so hard. Trust came so much easier then._ Her brows furrowed briefly as she considered something, and then spoke.

     “...I’m glad you asked me to come. It’s good to see you’re gonna be okay,” she told him in her warm, dark voice, walls falling away. He could lose himself in it. 

     “Thanks.”

     “You almost died on my watch. It was horrible to see.” She paused again, and the intensity in her gaze made him hold his breath. “...And I care about what happens to you.”  

     “Me too,” Kaidan said, and slowly reached over to put his hand over hers. _God I missed touching you._ “That means a lot, Shepard.” He looked at her, hands enveloping and warming hers. He’d forgotten how small they were compared to his. “Jane,” he corrected himself, and though somehow her expression seemed sadder, he could have sworn she moved an inch closer. He kept his hands over hers, staying there for just maybe a moment too long before pulling back. He had to know what she thought before he fell any further back into her.

     “So I just wanna make sure, after Mars, after Horizon...You and me...we’re good?” Jane’s eyes flickered, the guard slowly pulling back up. _No,_ he thought. _Don’t shut me out._

     “We’ve been through hell together. Had each others backs. That kind of bond is hard to break.” It was sincere, it was true, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. 

     “No, not just that. You were my commander, sure, but you _listened_ too,” he insisted, and she looked away. “And when I told you how Rahna broke my heart, you didn’t judge me. You knew I needed that,” he stopped to shift his position, tried to look her in the eye again and pull her back. “We went through Ash’s death together.” And his world was back in green again.

     “Yeah... We did.”

     “So what do you say... We good?” That green world flared and shut him out, and once more she wouldn’t look at him. 

     “Jay?”

     “ _Don’t_ , don’t,” she snapped, squeezing her eyes shut. “How can you ask that?”

     “I want to move past this!”

     “So do I Kaidan, but it doesn’t go away just because you want it to!” Shepard slapped her hand down on his bed. “It sure as hell didn’t go away just because _I_ wanted it to!” Kaidan stared at her, stunned by the naked pain in her voice. “Do you really not get it?” 

     “Listen, I don’t think I’ve been wrong about Cerberus--“

     “Goddammit Kaidan!”

     “But I’ve been wrong about _you_!” She ran a hand back through her hair in frustration.

     “You just get to switch back from being cruel to kind and I’m not supposed to do a damn thing about it? I waited. I _waited,_ ” she stressed, indignant, angry.

     “What...do you mean?”

     “I waited months to hear from you. Tried to understand why you did that to me. Why everyone else knew who I was as soon as they met me, but _you..._ ” Kaidan jerked back at the amount of hatred Jay loaded into that last word.  Her voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Accusing me... ...and then saying that I forgot _Ilos_?”

     “Shepard, I thought that you’d been working for them for months, that you’d lied to me about dying, and I couldn’t process it! Couldn’t _understand_...why you’d make me suffer for so long.”

     “You didn’t even try to listen to me!” Then some of the fire faded from her voice, and she calmed slightly. “But after awhile, I thought maybe I understood a little. So I waited for the chance to talk like you’d promised,” she looked at him, accusing, and he had to look away, because he knew what he’d done.

     “While I was locked up I waited and made excuses for you. Finally, I asked for just one thing to get me out of that hell a little faster. I just needed you to tell them I had a _shred_ of goodness in me. And you said no, I didn’t.” He swallowed hard. It had seemed like a reasonable decision then. The rational decision, concerning a woman he didn’t know, and couldn’t possibly promise was a good person. 

     “Jane, I suffered so much those two years without you. I couldn’t...I couldn’t get past the hurt. Couldn’t see you.”

     “The difference, Kaidan, is that I didn’t put you through that on purpose,” Shepard’s voice was so deadly calm, and then she shook her head in confusion and looked at him, imploring. “Did you do it to punish me?” He sucked in a breath and opened his mouth to deny it, but no words came out. He realized, with a feeling like a shockwave hitting his whole body, that he wasn’t sure that wasn’t true.  

     Jane clenched her jaw tightly, then grabbed his hand and squeezed hard, and harder still until it hurt and he felt his bones creaking. “Do you understand?” She asked huskily. He was lost in green eyes filled with fire, and he was afraid of the distrust there that had never existed before, the anger. “ _You broke my heart_.” Kaidan slowly closed his eyes, condemned. _Destroying me with just a sentence._ She let go of his hand as if burned. “...So you tell me how we move on.”

     “...I can’t... ...I own what I did, Shepard. I hurt you, that’s on me, and I can’t change it,” he forced himself to look at her again, to face what he’d done, and swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “I was selfish. I’m sorry. ...I don’t know know, exactly, how we’ll get past it. But I...I like having you in my life, Jay. As friends, as more than friends, I don’t know.”

     “Kaidan...”

     “I just want you to know that I never stopped thinking about you, even when I was being an ass. I’m not seeing anyone...and I still care.” Kaidan had never seen the woman in front of him, the Commander Shepard, look like that before. Looking at him like she was lost. He hated himself for causing it.

     “I still care too,” she said with quiet fierceness despite the unsurety. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and he quickly clamped it down. But it heartened him that, even like this, here was Jane’s steel backbone, strong as ever. 

     “There’s a war on. And maybe you and me will never happen. But I needed you to know that. Cause if we can get past this...I think that’s how we do it. Because talking to you, even _fighting_ with you,” he said smiling ruefully, “it reminds me how much I like you.” That got a low laugh out of her. Then Shepard took a long, deep breath.

     “I don’t know what we are Kaidan, or what we’ll be. If we can ever even be anything again.” Kaidan’s gut twisted. “But I know I like having you around too.” Shepard reached out and stopped, hesitating before gently touching her fingertips to his cheek where the bruises weren’t so bad, and he sucked in a breath at her touch. His hand reached up to cover hers, and press it against his face while studying hers.

     “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. He hadn’t even meant to say it aloud. She looked him up and down appraisingly.

     “Well, I know you clean up nice,” Jane remarked blandly, making him chuckle.

     “So mean. But I know I’m not too pretty right now, so I’ll take it.” A grin flashed across her face and faded just as quickly, but they stayed like that for just a minute. Not long enough, though it was something. 

     “I should get back to the Normandy,” she said, and their moment broke apart. He released her hand.

     “Thanks for coming by, Shepard. ... And I’m sorry.”

     “...Take care of yourself, Kaidan.” Even though he knew how angry and hurt she was, she still sound like she meant it. Hoped to god she did.

     Then Shepard left, and Kaidan was alone with his thoughts. How many times would he have to watch the woman he loved walk away from him, and how many times would it be his own damn fault? 

 


	4. 36; 10

 

 

* * *

**36**

* * *

 

     They had been at it like teenagers. Not that Kaidan really minded, but there was some distant, responsible, and mature part of his brain that knew that, three days after barely surviving Saren and Sovereign’s attack on the Citadel, he shouldn’t be having sex with his injured commander in a hospital supply closet. But a combination of still-flowing near-death adrenaline, the rush from fear of getting caught, the warm glow of painkillers, and the recent discovery of their sexual compatibility found them stealing touches and kisses, and more, whenever and wherever they could. He was convinced they were going to get busted for fraternization sometime in the next 24 hours, but as he thrust himself up into Jay’s warmth and she suppressed a moan by biting his ear, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

     And _Jay_ , that was something else new. He’d known her name was Jane, but not a single person he knew called her that or any variation of that, on or off duty. And before Ilos, she’d said to call her Jay, if he wanted--and he was the only one. He pushed her leg up over his shoulder to press deeper and at a different angle, and she threw her head back, mouth open but holding back her moan. God, but for a woman he had to step back from so often, who in some ways had to be shared with so many people, it was so good to have another piece of her that was his and his alone. 

     “Jay...I..."

     He almost said it then, almost breathed the words that had been pounding in his heart ever since Ilos, maybe before. _I love you._ He threw his mouth against her neck instead, kissing, sucking. _I love you._ There was not a chance in hell he would say it though, not so soon-- not that it _felt_ soon. It felt like it was such a long time coming that he was a fool for not knowing sooner, like it had always been there in some ways. He wouldn’t risk scaring her off or losing her by saying it too soon; he wouldn’t be able to bear it. But he lived it. _I love you._

     “Kaidan,” she said huskily, eyes closing, her quiet version of a long, drawn out moan. He could feel her quivering, tightening around him. One day he would find them a place where they didn’t need to worry about being quiet. Slowly he raised a biotic field, guiding the dark blue flow over Shepard until it formed a shimmering second skin, buzzing against her body. That earned him a pleasured cry that couldn’t be held back, and she bit down on her knuckles. He started thrusting faster and increased the hum of the field around Jane; every muscle in her body tightened, and she pulled her leg down from his shoulder to wrap both around his waist, flung both her arms around him and bit into his shoulder as she came. She thrust back against him and made muffled screams into his shoulder. 

    He groaned and closed his eyes. Amazing as she felt, the ripples and clenching he felt around him, what she sounded like started sending him over the edge more than anything else. Making her, the lady of the iron will, lose any amount of control, even just for a moment, turned him on beyond belief. Kaidan started thrusting deeper, more erratically while Shepard grabbed his face by the cheeks and kissed him deeply. He broke away to press his head against her chest, put his hand up higher on the shelves for leverage to pump into her, he was almost...almost... He felt Jay’s lips against his ear.

     “ _Kaidan_ ,” she whispered needily in her throaty, warm voice, and he felt her clench around his length and he was lost, riding his orgasm over the course of several thrusts, coming inside her while he whispered her name against her collarbone. Then there were their hands, still habitually running over each other’s skin to make sure no wound had opened or stitch ripped; the gradual return to full awareness, the realization of how _loud_ their breathing was, how loud they must’ve been the whole time, and the flustered, flushed smiles they flashed each other before kissing.

     “I better get enough of you soon, because I can’t afford to get knocked down a rank,” Kaidan said breathlessly, then grinned.

     “Mmm...You won’t have to worry about getting caught. I can Cloak, and it’ll just look like you were pleasuring yourself in a closet,” Shepard said simply with a nip at his neck. He let out a low chuckle and touched her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

     “You’d abandon little old me?” He leaned in close, forehead to forehead, and breathed in the smell of her, somehow deep and sweet even in this sterile, over-bleached place.

     “Only to save you,” Shepard replied with an enigmatic little smile. Kaidan moved his hand to her hip, stroking the soft skin there, then tracing old scars. Just from the time he’d known her, the scars he recognized read like a book, mission by bullet, by cut, by burn. It left him intensely curious about the others he didn’t know; his fingers slid around and glided up her back.

     “It feels so strange when you do that,” Jay pulled her head back slightly to look at him appraisingly.

     “I love your scars,” he murmured, and leaned to kiss the long scar on her left cheek, the one on her chin, to peck the numerous little marks that dotted her neck and collarbone, the tickle of his lips prompting a snort of laughter from her.

     “That’s ridiculous,” Shepard said, and subconsciously ran her fingers along her cheek scar. That one he knew and loved best.

     “They’re who you are,” he kissed the hollow at the base of her throat, making her sigh. “Your own little biography all over your body,” he nuzzled against her collarbone before kissing more scars down her chest down to her breast.

     “More like _your_ landmarks,” Shepard said with a languid smile as he took her nipple in his mouth. “Would you get lost without them?”

     “Maybe... Maybe not. Is that so bad, if it means I’ll never have to ask for directions?” He asked without looking up, then moved to her other breast.

     “Then it’s _especially_ bad, because the way there is always changing,” Jay ran her fingers through his hair. “If you try to memorize things, you’ll just get turned around,” she hummed,  and then rolled her hips around him, making him groan.

     “Ohhh, you know I’m no good for awhile, that’s just torture,” he tried to glare at her, but the glint in his eyes took out all the sting.

     “A woman’s curse, that she’s ready again so soon...” Shepard sighed and leaned her head back against a shelf, and slowly disengaged herself from him, and he matched her sigh with regret. “But a man could still do something about that, if he felt like it,” she said softly, looking at him with lidded eyes, and then looked down. 

     She was a cruel mistress. A wry smile tugged at one side of his mouth, and he settled his hands on her hips just as a familiar, flanged voice made an exaggerated cough outside the door. He stood and pressed his forehead against Jay’s as she exhaled in mild frustration. “I’ll murder that Turian.”

     “I’m sure he has a good reason, Jay,” he said back, and the ran his fingertips along her upper arm. He kissed her soundly, started pulling on his pants, handed Shepard a towel, and they straightened up the closet reasonably well. Kaidan took in one last look at Jane while she still had a sheen of sweat on her face, red hair plastered down and mussed from exertion and his hands being buried in it. “You’re beautiful,” he said. He kissed her, and tried to smooth her hair as much as he could before carefully opening the door. 

     “Oh, fancy meeting you two here,” Garrus said with mock surprise, mandibles fluttering and punctuating his sarcasm. Kaidan cleared his throat awkwardly.

     “Hey Garrus,” he greeted him, and stepped to the side to allow Shepard out.

     “It’s no use Shepard-- if you know it’s coming, detecting a close-quarters Cloak is really not that difficult,” the Turian called out to empty space somewhere beside Kaidan, who looked around, puzzled, until Shepard fizzled back into view a few feet to his left.

    “You...you actually did it! I thought you were joking!” He exclaimed, incredulous.

    “Sorry Kaidan,” Shepard grinned ruefully.

     “Well, if the happy couple could tear their eyes from each other for a moment, they might be interested to know that a high-ranking Alliance official is on his way for a chat; one who might be suspicious when he finds neither of his soldiers in their beds.” Kaidan ran a hand through his hair.

     “Jeeze. Thanks for the heads up Garrus,” he said and clapped his friend on the shoulder. 

     “No problem. Now you two crazy kids get back to where you’re supposed to be and hope no races with a better sense of hearing or... _smell_ , walk around here and get it in their head to talk to Alliance brass,” he warned, and waved back to them as he left. Kaidan looked back at Shepard, the commander mask already slipping back on to her face.

     “We’ll talk later,” she said with a curt nod, and just as she was about to turn, paused as if there was something more to say. Then she walked away. 

     “Later, Shepard,” he replied, and when she was a good distance away, let out a beleaguered sigh.

 

_I love you._

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

**10**

* * *

 

 

     It was seared into his skin. The all too brief memory of grabbing Shepard and crushing her against him, her arms just as tight around him. Different but the same, _seductively_ the same, and his fear and love had combusted spectacularly, churning up so many emotions in his gut that he exploded and walked away from her before he realized what he’d done. He tingled and burned wherever he remembered touching her, most of all his cheek, the one place where skin had touched skin. _Jane._

     That didn’t mean he was wrong. He didn’t know whether it really was her, and if it was, time must have changed her if she would let him rot for 2 years, blaming himself for her death and for his own life. The years must have made her a monster, to do that.

     But he wanted to _look_. He wanted the time to take a long, hard look at her and know for sure, instead of stewing in this ugly mire of doubt. Instead of wondering about whether the words he’d thrown at her pierced the woman he loved or a devil wearing her face-- because they’d hit, he knew that much, and that’s what was keeping him awake, driving him into Shepard’s old habit of pacing like a man possessed. It had been clear on her face, which was what worried him most. If it was so intense that just anyone could tell by looking at her, then it was bad. But if it _was_ that bad... Then it couldn’t possibly be Jay, because she didn’t wear her emotions for the world to see.

     The bits and pieces he knew of her, the cues, the signs that he knew so well; that long scar across her cheek, the tiny mark under her right eye, the little dent in her chin. All gone. But the eyes were the same, the way they’d crinkled up with warmth when their eyes first met. And the way they’d gone hot with anger-- and worse, the way they’d gone cold when they parted. 

     He dug out his flask-- the little emergency stash of whiskey he took on any posting, just in case of...well, anything. _This counts_ , he thought to himself, and took a healthy swig.

     She’d left him a ruined man. He should just pretend it had never happened, go back, go on that next date with Emma. _I wish I’d never met you_. But he wouldn’t cut her out even if he could, because those months with her were still the most precious time of his life. To lose those memories, on top of losing her...He finally sat down and put his hands over his face. 

     She had brought out more from him than he thought existed. A desire not just to live but to have more, to _do_ more. Like she’d held out her hand from the top step and helped him up to see the world for what it was, and himself for what he was. That he was strong enough to stand beside her. And oh how he wanted that, and wanted to see the woman she hid from everyone, because somehow she was more amazing than what everyone else saw. But did he ever love the whole of her, if he didn’t love what she was now?

     He would write her. He would say... that he wished he were calmer. That he wanted to know her, wanted to talk--but as things stood, that was impossible. So...maybe later they could...  He took another drink.

_I loved you....But what are you now? What if your face is just hiding you, blinding me to what you’ve become?_

 

* * *

 

     Shepard stared at the ceiling and let the scalding water hit her. It made her feel more alive and more numb all at once, and she couldn’t ask for much more than that. She smoothed her hair back from her face, let it soak, spit out the water that collected into her mouth. She braced her hands against the shower wall. _This is a luxury. The hot shower. The wallowing._ She grabbed the open bottle of wine on the shower shelf and took a swig, only somewhat careful to avoid getting water in it. _And the wine. That’s how they should bill command-- plenty of hot water, wine, and wallowing time for when you decide to just fuck everything and give up all pretense of self-control. But this isn’t_ so _bad--when was the last time you really, in the letter AND spirit of the law, said fuck it, huh?_

     Not for a long time. Not since after Akuze. _When I beat up nearly every Marine in that bar, got my face broken, and was reamed within an inch of my fucking life by Anderson, who called in too many favors and had to promise new ones on top to keep it from going on my record._ She smirked briefly and took another long pull. _I had a little more of an excuse then. A better excuse than “a man.”  My excuse was 50 screaming and bleeding men and women. Is this how close he deserves to get to that?_

     Not that she was getting bar-fight drunk, or in a bar-fight mood; she had a lot more anger in her life then. Back then the wounds of Mindoir were just starting to heal, when a young woman in denial about her loneliness had finally started to believe her unit could be a new sort of family-- and then that new family was slaughtered in terror in the night. And once more Jane Shepard crawled out from under the blood and stood at the last, alone. She shivered at the memory and drank. There had been nothing left in that creature then but rage, and she would’ve charged headlong into the grave if it weren’t for Anderson. 

     The water no longer seemed to warm her, so she shut it off and stood there for several minutes, letting the cold air hit her wet skin. _Being physically uncomfortable is easier to deal with than hurt feelings. We’re trying that one again, are we?_ Shepard sighed and stepped out of her bathroom, finally drying herself and dressing before sitting heavily in her desk chair.

     Back then, she couldn’t fill herself with all that burning hot anger and just let it go. What she was left with was a self deflated, a little less than it was before. But determination was dense and it seemed to fill the space up nicely. But what was dense was also heavy, and it dragged on her, and parts were still so empty. She’d learned how to protect herself perfectly. How to draw people in close, how to love them and how to live when they left, but most importantly, never letting them know her. But the emptiness started to make itself known, fill itself up to stop anything else from coming in-- not with rage, but with cold, a lack of empathy, a lack of humanity. Doing what needed to be done without looking around her or really seeing anyone for what they were. She shivered again and drank, hoping for the alcohol’s cascade of warmth to turn up soon. 

     Kaidan had driven back that coldness by being so absolutely, so perfectly human. Scarred and real, wounded and living-- and still _good_...That made him beautiful. It had just been routine at first to get to know the crew, but she wanted to know more about him. Then she wanted more, then she wanted _him_ , and realized how many other things she wanted too. And so Anderson had saved her life, but Kaidan was was the one who had given it more meaning than she thought it could have.

     The man who gave her purpose thought she’d betrayed that purpose. Thought her a monster, thought she didn’t care, accused that Ilos meant nothing to her. That she had no love in her heart.

     She didn’t want to be those things ever again, those beings of white-hot fury and soulless, endless cold, but the fear and the empty chill were gnawing at her, and proof enough was her sitting there surrounded by all her ghosts and her dead, filled with uncertainty. She finished the bottle of wine and guided it to the floor with a clink.

_Goddamn you. I didn’t need you until I met you._


	5. 6, 5, 4...

 

 

 

 

* * *

**6**  

* * *

 

     Shepard stood in the entrance to her new room with her hands on her hips, surveying what was to be her home for god knew how long.

     “I’m sorry about this bullshit, ma’am,” Vega said from behind-- and above--her. Sweet Sol system but the man was gigantic.

     “Sometimes I think you’re more upset about this than I am, lieutenant,” she observed, and, with a twinge in her gut, stepped over the threshold and into her moderately comfortable prison: soft bed; decent desk, complete with a terminal and a comfy chair; a dresser and attractive shelving; a nice view. Overall, clean and bright, sunshine streaming in through the window. She hated it.

     “It’s your duty to not appear upset, Commander. But I can say whatever I want unless you’d like to report me, so as far I’m concerned, in this matter the Alliance can besa mi culo.” Shepard was glad her back was still to him, so that he couldn’t see her smirk. It wouldn’t do to dispense with formality so early on.

     “I trained in Rio de Janeiro for N7, Vega. I _do_ understand some Spanish.”

     “... _Mierda_ ,” he swore under his breath. “So earlier, when I told my buddy to...” 

     “ ‘Check out that heart-shaped ass’? Mhm,” she confirmed mildly. It had been kind of funny, in a highly insubordinate conduct sort of sense. Jane knew by all rights she should be, at minimum, annoyed with James, but instead she just found herself amused. In way she was sad to play her hand so early-- it would have been fun to keep hearing what he would say when he thought she couldn’t hear. She turned to her right and stepped aside to let him into the room. “So...I say gracias, pero cállate la boca,” saying the words painfully absent any spanish inflection. James walked in and raised his eyebrows at her, staring and looking almost offended. “...What?” She asked.

     “Ma’am, your accent is _horrible.”_ She crossed her arms and shot him a look. “No, seriously, did your teacher have a speech impediment?” Vega rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers in epiphany. “Was he deaf?”  Irritation made her eyebrows twitch. She could speak _other_ languages just decently... She just didn’t have an ear for Spanish. Or a throat.

     “Vega,” Shepard said threateningly.

     “Just sayin,” he said soothingly. She looked at him sidelong for a moment, then ran a hand back through her hair with a sigh.

     “Anyway,” she crossed her arms, “what are the rules here, Vega? This clearly isn’t standard protocol.” 

     “You’re not gonna like it. Just don’t shoot the messenger, hey?”

     “I’m an adult, I can handle it,” she said patiently. James sighed, and began reciting the terms of her incarceration in a monotone.

     “You’re allowed to roam the facility for the most part, but you have to be escorted by yours truly; to use training facilities you’ll have to notify internal security. You’re allotted target practice once a week under heavier guard, and can request additional shooting time, but the Alliance reserves the right to deny your requests for any reason. You’ll have access to some, but not all of your funds for small purchases, all of which will be monitored. Your communications will be limited and monitored. You can expect to receive few if any messages from anyone outside of the Alliance.” 

     Shepard moved in front of the window and stood at parade rest. James cleared his throat and continued, sympathy creeping into his voice. “Without extraordinary circumstances and pre-approval, you will not be allowed to message anyone outside of the Alliance, in order to ensure you have no further contact with Cerberus. You’re scheduled for intense debriefing for the next few days at minimum, but questioning will continue beyond that.” 

     “Not the homecoming I was hoping for,” Jane murmured quietly, more to herself than anything. Her eyes studied the view in front of her; snow lent HQ a false veneer of serenity. She loved the quiet and solitude of a world freshly coated in it, though that had been tempered somewhat by her walk on Alchera. The oppressive, beautiful silence there had stilled her heart to near stone. While searching for the tags of the lost, she could almost feel their echoes walking with her. Placing that monument alone had been hard. And now, while still serene, snow filled her also with a sense of dread, like her ghosts were beside her once more.

     “The Captain and I will do whatever we can to make this easier for you, ma’am,” James said, pulling her from her memories.  

 _What you can do is dispense with this bullshit,_ she thought with irritation _. Sometimes I think I’m actually in a mental hospital somewhere, banging my head against a wall and asking why no one believes me when I’ve got so much proof. Insanity is the only believable explanation for this idiocy._ She clenched her jaw and turned around.

     “Vega, they can do whatever the hell they want to me,” Shepard began, voice lighthearted in contrast to her words. “I’ll rot in this cozy little hell-hole, I’ll sacrifice my rank and reputation,” she stepped towards him and jabbed her finger against his chest, “ _I will bounce into the council room and dance about like a pretty little circus monkey_ ; I don’t _care_.

     “It doesn’t matter so long as we do the most important thing, which is get it through the Alliance’s scared, thick skulls that the Reapers are coming, and we need to prepare _now_ , before it’s too late. That should be you and Anderson’s priority.” Shepard said firmly.

     “Yes Commander,” he said with a salute, and she flinched just slightly.

     “And you can stop that. I’m not your Commander or anybody else’s anymore. Shepard is fine.” It wasn’t a matter of proper usage of title and rank, so much as it felt like a punch to kidneys whenever he said it. Using the title in these circumstances was ridiculous-- humiliating.

      _Commander Jane Shepard,_ she thought to herself sardonically, _lord and master of this bed and bookshelf, leading her unit of soft sheets into the dangerous territory of “bedtime.” The soldier you send when failure is not an option...She’ll make short work of a good night’s rest._

 

_I’m going to go mad in this place._

 

     “That’s not really the Alliance’s call to make, in my book,” he argued. Jane took a step back and studied the man, not for the first time. Frankly, he was a surprise. He was not as simple she’d first thought, and she thanked her lucky stars for that. Being guarded by a bore would have driven her insane much more quickly. Vega wasn’t involved in lofty strategy but that didn’t mean he wasn’t quick on the uptake. _I should’ve expected there to be more to him. He’s Anderson’s personal pick, after all._

     “So, do you piss off your superiors frequently, Vega?” Shepard asked wryly after another quick up and down scan.

     “All the time, ma’am,” he answered. “And you can command me _any_ time,” Vega added in what she was sure _he_ thought was a sexy whisper. She blinked.

     “Is this a ‘throw the uptight officer off balance’ sort of thing?” She was certainly not used to being flirted with so obviously, even as a joke, and it was so damn odd that it worked at least a little in that respect. “Because it’s not appropriate.”

     “Aye, Doña so _cold_!” James declared to the ceiling, and shivered. “You sure you don’t need somebody to warm you up? Cause I’m the man for the job-- I’ve got references.” _Over the top,_ Shepard thought to herself with an inward sigh.

     “Warm me up?” Shepard raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

     “I don’t do it for everybody, but as a special favor for you...”

     “Vega, get out of here before I request a different guard,” she said sternly.

     “Damn, your command voice is downright spooky.” Jane glared. “Alright, alright!” Vega conceded, holding up his hands in defeat. “I’m out, Shepard. But I’ll be nearby.” He saluted again before exiting with a wink and closing the door behind him. Shepard put her hand over her mouth as soon as the door clicked shut and waited for a few moments, until she hoped Vega was far enough away. Then she removed her hand and allowed herself to bust into laughter. 

   

 

 

* * *

**5**

* * *

 

     Shepard sucked in a deep breath of winter air, glad to feel its sharpness sting her lungs and make her feel just a little more alive. She blew it out and watched the mist of her breath float up and dissipate amongst the little flakes of snow that were just starting to fall. 

     James grumbled and burrowed deeper within his puffy coat and scarf, looking ridiculous. He walked beside her and just slightly behind, letting her lead the way and maneuver amongst the Alliance soldiers, who were trying to get to their destinations much more quickly than they. 

     “You’re loco to wanna be out here, Lola,” he complained with the silly nickname he’d taken to calling her. She supposed she should care more about it, but she wasn’t a commander anymore; there were no issues of rank or propriety. Spending practically every day together had bred familiarity quickly; she had only _briefly_ delved into the “contempt” stage, and Vega had forgiven her, since it turned out to be a sprain, not a break.

      And if she enjoyed the flirtatious nature of the name? 

_“My best friend's sister growing up was Lola. Older sister. Hot. Tough.”_

     Well, he thought it suited her. She wasn’t going to disagree. 

     “If I didn’t get fresh air soon I was gonna go crazy, James,” she explained slowly while looking around, hungrily taking in her new surroundings. “And I love this. The bite in the air, cheeks stinging, runny nose... Like being a kid again,” she said with a grin, craning her neck to look up at him. Her grin, overbright eyes and wind-burnt cheeks got a small smile out of him, at least until the next gust of wind. 

     “Being a kid sucked,” he scowled.

     “I am ordering you to shut up and let me enjoy my walk,” Jane said, refusing to let her guard’s grouchiness ruin her tiny little taste of freedom. She slowed once they got to an open courtyard where during warmer months there was a cheery fountain, and people would gather to talk or take lunch. Now though, there was just a plane of white and empty tables. “That room is getting a little smaller each day,” she murmured, and then turned away from a blast of wind. James moved to stand in front of her and block her from it with his back. Her mouth thinned and she quirked an eyebrow. “Chivalry? Really James?” _Flirting I can take, but I’ll beat_ this _nonsense out of him if I have to._

     “Sorry Lola, my Momma taught me to treat women well. Even...y’know, suspected war criminals.” Shepard scowled at that. “Bet she didn’t see _that_ possibility coming, or she might’ve given me a loophole...”

     “My Ma told me I needed to do things myself, because otherwise nobody would take me seriously, or worse, they wouldn’t get done. ” she said, and stepped back out into the wind and back on her walk. “What with being a shrimp and a girl in farm country. So in light of that and, you know,  _being N7 and a two-time savior of the galaxy_ , I don’t need your giant troll-body to protect me from the wind.”

     “ _Ma_? You were a country girl?” Jane felt her stomach twist and drop; her mouth went dry. _You mentioned home. Why, whywhy_ why _would you mention home to him?_

     “...On Mindoir,” she answered curtly. She couldn’t take back her original words, but hopefully James would get the point and back off.

_Mindoir, pretty Mindoir with your land and woods and the mountains on the horizon, and you could find somewhere to hide from the whole world after a blizzard, be all alone. Like you thought you wanted to be._

     “I never woulda guessed. Well, your Ma probably didn’t think you’d end up alongside such a _particularly_ handsome and strong marine, or she’d be fine with it.” 

     “Vega, think about it for five seconds,” she snapped. “Would you follow a commander into battle if someone was always opening doors for her or laying their coats across puddles for her? I’m a soldier, not a pretty little lady.” He was silent for a moment, finally getting that they were on a poor choice of topic. But no matter how many times she snapped, James never reacted in kind.

     “I got you, Shepard,” he said easily, as if she’d explained it to him as polite as can be. She sighed and let her anger go. It wasn’t for him, anyway. _It’s for a house burned up and best forgotten._

     “...Sorry. That had nothing to do with you. I don’t want to talk about her,” Shepard apologized. _I must be getting off my game. I didn’t even try to redirect that._

     “No se preocupe,” Vega said, and cupped his hands up to his mouth, blowing into them and rubbing them together to keep them warm. “How are you not freezing? You’re _minúsculo_ , no insulation!” She thanked him in her head for moving to another subject so cleanly.

     “Mind over matter, James,” she said smugly, and stuck her hands deeper into her pockets. She was actually quite cold, but she wasn’t about to let the lieutenant know. In a way she even enjoyed the chill. The snow was starting to fall in earnest, and by all accounts it was supposed to be a hell of a blizzard. Already the tops of the buildings were fading into a white-out. 

     “Bullshit! You got those little heat packet things, _don’t_ you?” Vega accused her, stepping slightly in front of her to get a good look.

     “Nope, I’m just not a little bitch about it.” She kept her expression matter of fact, though on the inside she was grinning. He fell back to walk beside her.

     “If this weren’t the shitty kind of snow, I’d risk getting written up by all these stuck-up assholes and whip a snowball right into the shit-eating grin I know you’re wearing under that poker face, Lola.” The corners of her mouth twitched.

     “You win, I _am_ mocking you on the inside. Your prize is--“

     There was a muted crack sound; Shepard  gasped as she felt a sharp punch to her ribs and staggered to the side, almost losing her balance. James’ hand snaked around her back to grab her upper arm and stabilize her against him. 

     “ _Ow_ ,” she said in irritation, and covered the spot with her hand. It was throbbing like a _bitch_.

     “Shepard, the hell was that?! It sounded...”  The throbbing ache began to spread, accompanied by a growing heat and burning that seemed to increase exponentially until it was almost blinding. She grunted and clutched harder to try and tamp down the pain, and felt her glove slowly becoming warm and wet. 

     “...Shit,” Jane said, incredulous, “James, I’ve been _sh_ \--“ There was another series of cracks and she was struck in the chest once--twice. She let out a strangled sound and latched onto Vega’s jacket to stay standing. The last shot seemed to ignite the pain in every wound; a piercing, pounding fire that kept boring deeper. She bit her lip hard-- in the past she found she could deal with massive pain better by masking it with some of her own, something she caused. _Has it really been so long since I’ve been shot that I forgot what it feels like?_

     “Fuck!” James threw her to the ground and knelt over her, forming a shield with his body. She grunted again in pain and curled up to make herself a smaller target, cursing the Alliance for refusing to allow her to carry a gun. “Qué mierda está pasando!?” There were screams, other members of the Alliance running past them.”You okay?”

     “Alive!” she said through grit teeth. 

     “Shepard, can you see the motherfucker!?” She shook her head to clear it, took Vega’s gun from its holster, and, ignoring his protest, used his jacket once more to haul herself to sitting while still using him as a shield, much to her distaste. Shepard wrapped her arm around his neck, pressed her cheek against his head, and used his shoulder to steady her arm and aim, determinedly ignoring the throbbing of her wounds. She hadn’t seen where the shot came from, but her body was able to remember quite vividly their angle of origin. Jane looked up, scanning the rooftops and windows as fast as she could, counting, and thought she saw something. It was hard to say without a scope.

     “Not sure, but--“ A white-hot lance of pain sliced across her cheek, making her hiss. But it was clearly fired from the figure she was looking at, and she emptied James’ clip ruthlessly. Then a wave of dizziness hit her and she dropped back down hard on the pavement, unsure if she’d hit anything.

     “Shit! Shepard!” Her guard grabbed her chin and turned her face to get a better look at the wound on her cheek.

     “I’m okay,”  she insisted breathily. “Get the bastard. 10th floor, fifth window from the right...” James’ face came into focus above her, looking ferocious, torn between his duty as a soldier and a guard. It was growing difficult to suck in air past the growing pressure in her chest, but she summoned what she could to yell in her commander’s voice.

     “Do not feel sorry for me, just _go_!” she growled. James swore, and after a moment’s hesitation stood up. The burning was starting to stab deeper alongside the pressure building in her chest, making her groan. _Lightheaded...maybe wasn’t a good idea..._  

     “ _Hold it_ , marine!” A commander’s bellow with more breath behind it rang out. “There are other soldiers taking care of the situation, do _not_ make me report you for abandoning your post!” A short, stocky brunette whipped the lieutenant back around to face Shepard. James looked bewildered. “Pick her up and get her inside!”

     “I was just--“

     “And I _know_ you aren’t going to feed me a line about following the orders of soldier who is going into shock!”

     “Not in shock,” Shepard objected while pushing herself to sitting, and she was working on standing, only to be gently but very firmly pushed back down by the brunette. She then had the peculiar but enjoyable experience of being picked up as if she weighed absolutely nothing. 

     “Alright, gotcha, nice and easy...” Jane looked down at the ground and back up at James.

     “Don’t think I’ve ever been this high up,” she observed dreamily, and coughed. 

     “Not in shock my ass,” the woman muttered, and then they were indoors, a rush of heat blasting across her. “Set her down over there! I’ve already radioed for med transport-- strip her down while I grab a kit!” James unzipped her coat and gently lifted her up to take her arms out of her sleeves while she tried not to hiss in pain; he slipped her folded up coat under her head. He started to mutter and curse to himself in spanish. 

     “I get shot all the time, I don’t remember it hurting so much,” Jane rasped out and coughed. It was like no matter how much she inhaled, she couldn’t catch her breath. 

     “How are you even still _going_ , Lola?” The bossy woman reappeared and started cutting up her shirt to see the bullet wounds more clearly. “Fucking hell,” James swore, looking at the red bubbling around the hole between her ribs every time she inhaled and exhaled.

     “ _Do_ try not to upset the patient--“ The woman shoved part of the kit over at Vega. “The one around her collarbone is a through and through, just do the basics and medi-gel.” 

     “Shit-- it’s not so bad, you’ll be fine, Shepard. Get you back up and pacing like a champ in no time.” The feeling of medi-gel made her exhale in relief, though the pain of the other two wounds still beat in concert.

     “ _Shepard_?” The woman asked, gaze flicking briefly but intensely to meet Jane’s. “Nevermind, listen, I’m Dr. Remy, I’ve got you until we can get you to the hospital.” The doctor cleaned the wound on her ribs and wiped away a good deal of blood before slapping an adhesive pad on it. Shepard grabbed her hand.

     “Was anyone else hurt?” She asked urgently, and the doctor gave her a calculating look.

     “As far as I know it was just you. Now this is going to hurt, but trust me.”

     “On a mission this wouldn’t matter, I just have to get it done. Doesn’t matter if it hurts. Don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to think about now.” Shepard knew somewhere, distantly, that she was rambling, but that didn’t mean she could stop.

     “Think of getting back to someone you love,” the doctor suggested while reaching for her kit. Her heart wrenched sharply.

     “I’ll get back at him, alright,” Jane wheezed, her tone violent.

     “Okay, bad idea, uh...”

     “Mírame, Shepard, hey, look at me,” James ordered, and her eyes drifted to meet his. “What’ve you gotta do while you’re here?”

     “ _What_?” She asked in supreme irritation. She could barely think past the roaring in her ears and the constant throbbing, especially when she tried to breathe. The dizziness got worse; her head was swimming.

     “You can get this done or be a dancing monkey, remember?” 

     “...Reapers,” she breathed out.

     “Si, what _about_ them?” He asked, putting pressure down on one of her wounds and making her squeeze her eyes shut.

     “Gotta get them to see...Reapers...they’re coming...” At that, the doctor stabbed a large needle into her chest, which caused a rushing out of air along with the most unusual sensation of her life as the air drained from her chest, but not her lungs. Shepard made a gurgling, disgruntled noise, unable to do much else to voice her discomfort.

     “A bullet damaged your lung, so air is collecting in your chest. I needed to decompress it. Lieutenant, _keep talking to her_ , keep her awake. They’ll be here soon.” Jane squeezed her eyes shut.

     “You’re gonna be okay, Lola. And we’re gonna carve up the maldito pendejo who did this.” She felt a large hand carefully smooth the hair back from her face. She mumbled, hopefully something about his vocabulary getting too creative because she was starting to not understand his epithets. “Don’t talk.”

     She heard James' voice again, maybe even heard herself answering despite his request, but she wasn’t really sure of the words. Just the sounds, being moved, the stabbing pain, dizzier and dizzier, until...

 

* * *

 

     She dreamed he was there, the feeling foggy but certain. His steadiness. The feel of his hand that she hadn’t known was quite so etched into her memory, his thumb stroking down her jaw. Leaning into his touch readily because she was so hungry for it. The bleary opening of her eyes to the picture of his dark hair and his features, fuzzy but unmistakable. Closing them again with a sigh because she was so tired, chapped lips brushing against her forehead. And when she really awoke to an empty room, she felt herself empty too. There was the muted buzz of a busy hospital outside her doors, but her room itself quiet except for the hum of machines and air vents and the steady beeping of her heart monitor. Full awareness came over time, and unfortunately with it came the slow kindling of pain in her ribs, her chest, her lungs. Shepard grunted slightly and used her elbows to push herself to sitting.

     A thoroughly guilty looking James knocked and entered the room without waiting for her response. 

     “Shepard,” he said, his typical confident ebullience dimmed. That wouldn’t do-- perhaps strangely, she felt guilty over his guilt.

     “Why so glum, James?” She asked with a hint of black humor.

     “I’m not. I’m glad you’re awake. ...It’s been awhile since you got out of surgery,” he said, and pulled a chair up to her bed.

     “Everything’s a little fuzzy...you’re gonna have to be clearer. I remember getting hit...falling... I tried to shoot someone?”

     “Heh, yeah,” he replied with a half-grin and disbelieving shake of his head. “Another story to tell about you. You clipped the Cerberus bastard--who shot _you_ using a _sniper rifle_ \--with a _pistol_. I got some hell for letting you use my weapon, but they might not’ve caught him if you hadn’t. They figure its a better alternative than that big of a security breach getting out into the public.”

    “It wasn’t like I gave you a choice on the matter, either. I just grabbed it.” She pushed a button to elevate the head of her bed to rest back against it; sitting up straight without support was starting to hurt. “Fucking Cerberus,” she muttered to herself. He shook his head again. 

     “I just don’t get how you do it,” he said bluntly. “You got shot three times, Lola. One hit your lung--the other was only an inch from your heart. You couldn’t _breathe_ and de alguna manera you grab my gun, use my shoulder to line up your shot and...”

     “I just...” she shook her head just once to deflect his praise, then carefully touched her hand to her chest, then her ribs to feel the wound points. “I do what it takes to live,” she said, almost more to herself than James.

     “It’d sure be nice to live in between living, tu sabes?” He asked with a chuckle, and she felt a peculiar pang in her chest. Shepard stared at him, not realizing what she was doing until he looked at her strangely, and she whipped her head to look straight forward.

     “It would, but I don’t hold any illusions,” she said flatly. 

     “One shot caught your trapezius muscle too,” Vega said, and pointed to the much more exaggerated muscle near his neck and above the collarbone. “Through and through, but doc said it shredded some of the muscle.” She sighed.

     “At least it’s on my left. Shouldn’t add too much pain to shooting.”

     “The surgeon’ll be in here at some point, I guess, but when I talked to her she said everything went really well. That other Doc bein there probably saved your life,” he added, then shifted uncomfortably. Shepard frowned for a moment, and then the hazy memory seemed to skim the surface of her awareness.

     “Oh... Hm... The one who bossed you around,” Shepard said with a lopsided grin. James muttered something unflattering under his breath. “I’d like to thank her, if possible.”

     “She said she’d be around,” he said, a brooding look returning to his face. Shepard didn’t ask. With Vega it was better to wait; whatever was bothering him wouldn’t stay below the surface for long, and it was better for him to reveal it himself than to prod him for it. “I’m sorry, Shepard. I fucked up.”

     “Fucked up?” she asked, eyebrow quirked. “I don’t see how.”

     “I’m supposed to be your bodyguard and I never saw it coming! Didn’t even realize you were shot until you got hit again-- you nearly died on _my_ watch!”

     “I didn’t know either, and I was the one who _got shot_. We couldn’t expect a sniper in Alliance Headquarters, and you know snowfall changes, mutes acoustics.”

     “It’s my job to expect it!” He insisted and poked himself hard in the chest.

     “Because of you, he couldn’t finish his job,” Shepard pointed out, but the look on James’ face remained stubborn. Inwardly she sighed, but outwardly she hardened her expression and jutted up her chin, putting on the Commander mantle. “Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and do better next time.”

     “Yes ma’am!” He confirmed with a quick salute. There was relief on his face, but there was still an undercurrent of unhappiness, his mouth drawn into a line and tension in his jaw.

     She reached over and touched his arm.

     “But really...thank you, James.” He looked at her and briefly covered her hand with his own before standing up. “I’ll let the doc know you’re awake.”

     “Thanks,” she said, and leaned back into bed, rubbing her hand. 

 

 

 

* * *

**4**

* * *

 

     James stood at the threshold of former Commander Jane Shepard’s room cum prison cell, admiring the scene before him.

     “Holy fucking shit, Commander,” Vega said-- relatively flatly, considering the strength of his language and the extent of the damage he was observing. Every single thing in the room had been destroyed, most of it through extreme force, some of it through thorough dissection. Parts of the bed-frame had been carefully screwed apart before being attacked, though whatever the woman had used to unscrew it had also been used to rip up and tear the guts out of the mattress. The small computer desk had been smashed to pieces, parts of the chair recognizable in all corners of the room. The bookcase looked like it had been the subject of a compromise, its backing stomped on and many of the shelves broken in halves and quarters, but the sides obviously needing the help of a tool for proper destruction. The glass in the window had been, down to the last shard stuck to the frame, thoroughly removed.

     “Ah. James. Good to see you,” Shepard said. She stood in front of the window, hands clasped loosely behind her.

     “So, uh... been keepin’ busy?” He continued to inspect the destruction, finding impressive little details every time he thought he was done. Like the removal of the outlet covers, or the tearing out of every single page of an old religious book someone had thrown at her a week ago during the trial.

     “In the course of my recovery and confinement, I’ve gone a little stir crazy,” she replied calmly, and turned to face him. He noticed, and wisely refrained from mentioning, the blotchiness of her complexion.

     “A _little_? Lola, this is straight up _loco_. But impressive,” he added with his hands up defensively, giving her destructive talent its due.

     “I suggest you inform your superiors that, if I’m not _given_ leave for a little while, I am going to _take_ some, and it won’t be to their liking.”

     “Hey, I’ll let ‘em know. And send somebody to clean up this masterpiece. But you’re comin’ with me before you start takin’ this show on the road...And on to, uh, _people_.” He stood outside the doorway and gestured for her to come out. After a moment she followed him.

     “I’m not going serial-killer, James. I’m just so damn fed up and frustrated that I could--“ she looked over her shoulder back at her room and scowled, “do something incredibly stupid to let it out.”

     “Well, no se preocupe, Lola, I’ll get this taken care of. You can come hang at my place. It’s not so dang depressing as yours-- I mean, even if you _hadn’t_ , y’know, systematically destroyed every little thing in it,” he said, tapping on his omni-tool as he walked.

     “I may have gotten a little carried away,” she admitted, shooting James a glare when he snorted. “It was a little thing first. Broke part of a drawer while pacing.” Pacing was one thing to call it. Vega usually preferred to compare the habit with some sort of raging animal. “And that just made me more frustrated, so I kicked it. And it felt pretty damn good. So I kicked a few more.”

     “And then you took out that bitch-ass bed of yours?”

     “If I had a stitch ripper, I would have pulled out every last damn thread in that blanket just for the satisfaction of it,” she intoned ominously. Vega looked at her and blinked a few times, as if to say “really?”

     “Shit, I shoulda gotten you outta there a couple times before this at least. My bad, Commander.” He closed the display on his omni-tool. “And now that certain important people have cleared your ‘leave of abscence,’--” he began, walking with a little extra swagger and gesturing for her to follow.

     “You mean that you informed Anderson that we’re going, and that it’s too late to do anything but clean up our mess?”

     “--I’m going to take you to visit a bunch of other people you’ll lose that argument to.” Her eyebrows raised in question. “I know plenty other marines who’d love to buy a drink for, or have a drink bought for them by,” he said with a nudge of his elbow, “the great Commander Shepard.” 

     “...Maybe some other night, Vega. I don’t really want to be around...” It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be around people, necessarily. Just not people who didn’t understand.

     “I get you. We’ll just hang at my place then, eh?

 

* * *

 

     It was like reliving that day all over again. The build-up, the excitement...The pain that left a gaping hole in her; filling it with self-righteous wrath; shrinking it with a ruthless, cold emptiness. It was all a tangled, bloody mess. 

 

_“We regret to inform you that Lt. Alenko has declined to be a character witness in your defense.”_

 

     Shepard had tried to exhaust herself out of feeling it, working out until her muscles were cramping and she was swaying on her feet, but a few hours of sleep later she woke up just as angry and confused as when she first read the message. Then she’d tried to take her frustration out on her room, with interesting results. While _temporarily_ satisfying to carefully and calculatingly take apart everything inside of it, it only made her feel worse afterwards with the added bonus of being ashamed of herself. So now she resorted to a more elegant, timeless solution.

     Jane tapped the table twice with her pointer and middle finger, and James refilled her glass. She drained most of it and Vega whistled appreciatively.

     “That enough to get you talking yet?” he asked, a little impressed. She had been dancing around his questions all evening, but the implants had rendered her a difficult woman to get drunk, something the lieutenant’s bottle of rum had learned the hard way. Once her name was cleared-- _if_ her name was cleared, she would have to buy him a few bottles, because only now, halfway through the tequila, was she feeling tipsy.

     “ _It’s nothing you want to hear about.”_ Shepard wanted to reply. It was probably true, but she was sick of letting everything to stew inside. If it was over, she wanted to say the words and make sure that she knew to her core that it was true, and that way she could move on. One of the problems with that, however, was that Shepard wasn’t sure she was capable of moving on, if she even wanted to. Part of her clung to the memory even still.

     “... I was seeing someone. Sort of. I’m not anymore,” she said tersely. Jane didn’t want to explain that in all likelihood they’d stopped being together six months ago, it had just taken this long to get it through her skull. _Me, sentimental. People would laugh. But sentiment and nostalgia are all I’ve got._

     “You were?” James asked, eyebrows furrowed, and sat back against the couch, arms draped across the back. “You never tried to clear anyone for communication,” he said neutrally, casually probing for information.

     “He’s Alliance. If he’d wanted to talk, it would be on him to find a way.”

     “Fraternization, huh. I wouldn’t’ve pegged you for a rulebreaker.” Shepard’s mouth twisted wryly, and James laughed to himself. “Lo siento, I never would have guessed you’d break _that_ rule. You been so cold to _me_ after all,” he corrected himself with a wink.

     “Here’s where I hope what you report back is limited,” she said, voice dark, and looked at the wall while taking a drink. All of her bitterness, her resentment, her doubts were roiling in her gut and threatened to rise.

     “They’ll never hear it from me, Lola,” he said seriously.  

     “I know.”  She drained her glass and stood up. “I know.”

     “Shepard?” Vega leaned forward, and she walked past him to grab the bottle of tequila and walk into the kitchen. “Hey, _espera_!” he demanded and followed her. Shepard sat on the kitchen counter and chugged a third of the bottle, the equivalent of maybe a shot or two for her. “What the fuck, Shepard?” He stood in the threshold, bracing his hands against the doorframe and looking at her in alarm-- if he’d been a dog, she would have said his hackles were up. She was breaking his trust, acting like this. She wanted to care about that.

     “I don’t know,” she said bitterly, and took another long pull. “I can’t explain it to you, because it doesn’t make sense to me, either.” 

     “Hey, I’ve had my heart broken too, Lola. But you’re scarin’ me.” She could see his eyes studying her face, flicking back and forth, desperately trying to understand her. 

_Go ahead, tell him this is different. Kaidan’s a good man. He knows me. He’s my rock. I’d do anything for him. It certainly sounds so different from every other heartbroken sob story when you put it like that._

     “He didn’t just end it, James. Not just rejection. He repudiated everything I stood for-- the one person who knows what I’m about, why I do what I do, who should have my back no matter what. He thinks I’m a monster, one of Cerberus’ heads, a perversion of the Shepard he was with. I came back _wrong_. ...No, I didn’t come back wrong, _I_ didn’t come back at all. I’m just some demon wearing Jane Shepard’s face,” she said viciously, and drank more. 

     James stepped into the kitchen and closer to her, slowly. There had been a flash of surprise on his face when Shepard said her first name, but now his expression was concerned. She looked at him-- something closer to a glare than just looking-- but she didn’t try anything else to dissuade him from coming closer. 

     “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he said carefully. 

     “I do. Worse... _you_ know it. You know it and somehow he doesn’t. I’ve been waiting all this time to hear something from him, because he said we would talk. Because I thought...” She shook her head. “...Doesn’t matter.” 

     “Course it does. You know it does. I’m still listenin, ain’t I?” She looked up at him suddenly, eyes narrowed. Then her shoulders slumped, her expression unbearably weary. She slid down from the countertop and turned away from him, and leaned forward onto her hands. _I’m tired. He’s not in my crew, he doesn’t have to believe in me. I’m tired, and he’s offering help._ She let go of her walls and let herself pour out.

     “I’m so fucking lonely, James,” She said quietly. “I’m no good at being alone. I thought after Mindoir I’d figured out how to handle it, certainly after Akuze. Learned how to live alone. But I didn’t,” Shepard added, voice dragged low and jagged by grief. “ _Still_ not any good. All I figured out was how to make sure that I never was alone. Got good at that.” She stood up straight and exhaled in frustration, running her hands back through her hair. “Surrounding myself with people. Didn’t matter if they really knew me, as long as I knew them, and they were there. And I could deal that none of them were here, I could, if... ...I just needed one thing in my life, I just needed...” She held up an open hand, looked it at, then clenched her fist and dropped her arm. “...And he knows, and still. Gone without a word.”

     “Shepard...”

     “After everything, you’d think I’d be able to take it,” her laugh was low and bitter. “Must be disappointing. I know you thought I was something...better. But I’m not.”

     “Nothing wrong with loving someone, Lola,” he said, and unable to help himself, wrapped his arms around her. She surprised herself when she didn’t try to pull away.

     “There is when it does this to you,” Jane muttered. “I don’t have time for this.”

     “Only when you’ve got the wrong man,” he insisted.

     “He isn’t. ...Wasn’t. Didn’t used to be.” 

     “Life doesn’t have to be miserable, Shepard,” James said, and lowered his head until his chin rested against her head. He was so warm. Jay was of the opinion that she was both always and never safe; she could take care of herself, but she was always in danger, each for the same reason: she was Jane Shepard. But with James towering behind her, she felt the scales tip towards safety for at least a second.

     “I know that. I’m not giving up the will to _live_ , James. I won’t feel like a pile of shit forever. I’m just so... ...so fucking... _disappointed_.” His embrace tightened, and he stilled for a moment, seemingly thinking something over. Shepard sensed a change in his bearing.

     “...Let me do something for you.” James pressed a light kiss against her cheek, and gently ran his hand across her stomach. Her breath hitched and she barely touched his other arm, but nothing else.”I’m sorry about how things have been. But you’re not alone,” he breathed against her ear. In the wake of his fingers she felt a burst of nervous electricity she hadn’t felt in a long time. And she knew she shouldn’t accept it, but she laced her fingers with his and leaned her head back against his chest. 

     She closed her eyes. 

     “Shepard... If he can’t see what he’s losing, then he’s loco. Then he doesn’t deserve you.” His hand, the one intertwined with Shepard’s, strayed upwards, stroking just between her ribcage, while the other traced lower. She swallowed hard.

     “James...” This was a terrible idea. She wasn’t that kind of woman. But his breath hot on her neck, his lips brushing tantalizingly against her skin, his body warm against her back; they all promised comfort she was aching for. Captivity and isolation ill suited her. 

     “Tell me if you don’t want me to,” he rumbled. James wasn’t a replacement, he wasn’t love, he was no Kaidan--but he was making her feel _some_ thing other than the yawning pit in her stomach and her muddled anger and loneliness. Something good. Another moment of thought, and Shepard decided that sex was by far not the worst way she could spend her time.

     She pulled her hand from his, and grabbed the wrist of his other hand and pushed it lower. He cupped her groin with his hand, the warmth making Shepard sigh as he slowly pressed and rubbed his fingers back. His right hand moved up, barely touching her breast, to make teasingly light circles just above on her chest. She made a little noise and subconsciously thrust herself against James’ hand. His lips brushed against her neck, and tantalizingly slowly he dragged his left hand up, and then slid it under the waistband of her pants, stopping when his fingers reached that little bundle of nerves. At first he teased, touch just barely glancing against her clitoris, touching everywhere around it, but then he began to rub, eliciting another small noise from her. _Oh god, it’s been too long since I’ve been touched._

 

* * *

 

      Even like this, she was so in control. If there had been any other noise in his apartment, he wouldn’t have heard her little sounds-- sounds that surprised and delighted him. Briefly he wondered whether he could be the one to turn off the volume control, but he shook off the thought. That wasn’t why he was doing this. She grabbed his other hand and wrapped it around her breast for him, and he smirked.

     “Mandón, ” he murmured. “Lo tienes, jefe.”

     “I know what I...” He rubbed harder, “...like,” she groaned, and he moved his hand further down, his thumb still teasing her while his middle and forefinger slid back and forth along the wetness in her slit, spreading it from her lips. He broke away from Shepard’s hold to slide up under her shirt and push her bra up over her breasts. “ _In_.” He didn’t obey her immediately, instead moving his finger _just_ around her entrance, toying with her, before finally sliding in, making her moan softly. He was careful, pressing against and widening her while moving in and out.

     His fingers traced cruel circles around her nipples until they stood almost painfully at attention, and then he pinched them gently, flicked his fingerpads against the tip. “More,” she said, and his finger abruptly delved deeper inside her, provoking a thrust back from her, and he started to work his index finger inside with it while his thumb worked more vigorously against her clit. Shepard’s chest rose and fell heavily as his fingers started to piston.

     “James,” she breathed, and her arm reached back  to the side of his head, digging into his hair. He couldn’t help but grunt quietly himself, trying not to thrust against her. This wasn’t for him. He wasn’t trying to seduce her, he was just trying to give her a moment of pleasure; peace. That didn’t mean he wasn’t painfully hard, or that this wouldn’t going haunt him for nights to come. “ _James_ ,” she pulled harder at his hair. 

     Fuck, he wished she would stop saying _his_ name, of all things. Why not just moan, or call out the name of that cabron, even? That would be less cruel.

     She clutched his left arm,  and he moved it to wrap around her waist, lift her up as he curled his fingers up inside her. She moaned, even now keeping herself restrained and fighting against the sound. 

 

* * *

 

     Oh god, she was so close. She was writhing against him, thrusting herself against his fingers, but it just wasn’t, wasn’t _quite_ enough. She bucked forward to lean over the table, giving herself more leverage to press back, and moaned as James’ large fingers continued to pump in and out of her. The worst was that she could feel his hard-on, large and insistent, against her back, but not any closer to being _in_ her. He tweaked one of her nipples and she threw her head back in a gasp. Finally she groaned in frustration; if he wouldn’t, then she would. Shepard reached back and started pulling down his zipper.

     “Shepard, _mierda_ , don’t...” he groaned as she grabbed his length.

     “Why not?” She asked breathlessly, impatient.

     “I...wasn’t trying to sleep with you, I just wanted to...do something nice for you,” he said weakly. With a low murmur of disappointment, Shepard took Vega’s hand and pulled him out and away from her, and then she turned to face him.

     “Nice,” she said flatly, one eyebrow raised. “So suddenly it’s not nice when your dick is involved?” 

      Men had the strangest ideas. 

     “Well, no, I mean...it... Ah hell,” he looked lost and frustrated, like this had seemed like a better, easier idea in his head, which she didn’t doubt. Luckily, Jane was a galaxy-renowned problem solver.

     “I won’t beg, James,” Shepard said, voice smokey. “And if you don’t want to, I get it.” She stripped off her shirt and bra and tossed them aside. “But if you want to do ‘something nice’ for me, I’m gonna need more than your fingers.” She looked up at him, chest still heaving. 

     “...Fuck,” he cursed under his breath and stared at Shepard, then leaned down, grabbed her by the ass, set her down on the table and kissed her hungrily, his hands kneading and squeezing. She wrapped her arms around Vega’s neck and slid her tongue in next to his, and started eagerly grinding herself against him. He grunted and pushed her down against the table, and the surge of excitement  she felt made Shepard realize that she much preferred James unleashed than James trying to be polite. He pulled his shirt off over his and leaned over to press himself across her crotch once, eliciting a quiet, low moan, then grabbed the waistband of her pants and underwear and started tugging them down. 

     Shepard helped kick them off, and started using her toes to tug down James’ trousers as well. “Te deseo, Lola,” he said huskily before kissing her, burying one hand in her hair, and using the other to caress her breasts.  He groaned as her hand traveled down his abdomen, lightly at first, but then inspected and feeling every groove down to his hips. 

     Abruptly, James grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, looking at her intensely, the thrill of being restrained just arousing her more. James kept eye contact as long as he could while leaning down to press his lips against the fresh scar on her ribcage, making her gasp; he kissed the scar on her chest, close to her heart, and the one above her collarbone. He ever so lightly bit her earlobe before whispering to her again, “Te deseo...” Jane made a throaty noise of need and arched herself up against him.

     “ _James_ ,” she said insistently, and ran her foot up the back of his leg.

     “Mm...Sorry, but I like you too much to fuck you on a table,” James said with a light smirk, provoking a low laugh from Shepard. He picked her up and brought her to his bedroom, once more giving her that delightful sensation of being carried as if she weighed nothing. He set her on her back, but she quickly wrapped her legs around him and flipped them to sit in his lap. She then gripped the back of his neck and pressed her cheek against his, unable stop moving her hips, rubbing her slit up and down his length.

     “Fuck, Shepard, wait...I don’t think I...Mierda, al menos uno,” James yanked out the top drawer from his nightstand and rummaged through it. “Goddammit!”

     “I...I have the implant, you don’t need to worry,” Shepard breathed, and kissed him deeply. “As long as you haven’t been frisking about too much, I’m fine with it.”

     “I stopped fraternizing...” He said, and closed his eyes in pleasure, pressing himself harder against her. “You?”

     “I haven’t had sex in...” She ran her fingertips from his jaw, down his neck, along his collarbone while thinking, “2, 3 years?”

     “ _Years_?” Vega’s eyes shot open. 

     “I’m not sure when I was officially alive again. So, biologically...3 years, mentally 1?” He stared, dumbfounded. If she weren't preoccupied by other things at the moment, she might be more amused by his surprise.

     “And...with _me_?” He asked, voice slightly strained. After a moment of thought, Shepard frowned and pressed her cheek against his again.

     “Don’t act so astonished,” she said warmly, and raised her body up until his cock was pressing against her lower lips, almost in her. “You’re a better man than you think... ...And I’m sorry for making you break your rule.”

     “You aren’t _making_ me do anything, so don’t you be sorry, cause I’m not,” he said fiercely, and pulled her hips against him, the head of his dick sliding in.  She inhaled sharply with an exclamation of pleasure, then kissed him hungrily, grabbed his length  and lowered herself onto the rest of him. He hissed quietly, and his hips bucked up slightly before he brought himself under control. She went slowly-- James was a little on the long side, but more notably he was _wide_ , and would have stretched her even if it hadn’t been years. It hurt in the best kind of way. She exhaled and pulled back a little before lowering herself even further. 

     “Shit,” she breathed out and wrapped her arms around his neck, and rested her head against his chest. She pressed her hips down, but it hurt too much to go further. 

     “No rush...” James rumbled and caught her lower lip lightly in his teeth, and his hand found her clitoris again, rubbing her in circles. Her head fell back, mouth open, and she thrust herself against both his hand and his dick, until she enveloped all of him. 

 

     This wasn’t right. It wasn’t the right feeling, the right body, the right man.

 

     Shepard lifted her hips and slammed herself down; James grabbed her behind and matched her timing, thrusting himself up and into her. It took them a minute to find their rhythm, but soon she was digging her fingers into his back and biting her lip against the moans that wanted to escape with every thrust. James’ mouth found the crook of her neck and lavished attention, kissing, sucking, biting, until Shepard finally dug in her nails and cried out.

     “Por dios, Shepard,” he groaned and grabbed her waist, and twisted to push her down on her back. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed him further inside of her, a frenzy building up inside of her, a need; the feeling familiar.

     “ _God_ , K-- keep going,” she gasped, a thrill of terror running through her heart at what she’d almost said. _Kaidan._ “Harder,” she commanded him desperately, hoping to drive his memory from her brain, and moaning when James obeyed. His left thumb continued stimulating the bundle of nerves between her legs, while his right hand lifted her leg above his shoulder to drive in deeper to her, strokes slow but deep and hard.

     Their eyes met, and Shepard realized she’d been avoiding his gaze. She didn’t want to meet his eyes because she didn’t want to see what was there-- she didn’t want to see the sincerity and adoration in James’ eyes. She didn’t want to be a monster. He started to thrust obscenely slowly while looking into her eyes, and she felt herself clench and quiver, grow even wetter. “Harder,” she whispered. _Make me forget_. He eased himself inside her, and just when she thought he was as deep as he could go, he thrust in hard; he picked up his pace gradually until she was moaning and rocking back with every thrust. He took her other leg and put it over his shoulder and pressed down, able to push faster and deeper. Shepard reached back and braced her hands against the wall and whispered, “oh, please, _please_ \--“ His fingers started to flick rapidly over her clit, and the wonderfully taut sensation combined with the pressure made her start to moan. “James!” 

     “Lola,” He groaned her name, need real in his voice as he continued to thrust into her. “Look at me,” he insisted, his breath becoming ragged. She studied his strong jaw, the scar across his nose and cheek, his eyes honest and much more than they first appeared to be. She breathed heavily, trying to still the anxiousness in her chest. What was she worried of--that he cared for her? Hadn’t she cultivated it, tried to live up to his expectations and more, flirted back recklessly? Hadn’t she demanded more of him? She was so _close_ , with him pushing so deep inside her, but that fear wouldn’t let her go over the edge.

     Vega’s eyes softened and his lips enveloped hers; his right hand spread into her hair while his left ran from her inner thigh up to her knee, sliding to the outside and down to her hip, settling high on her thigh to keep it pressed against his chest. He growled as his thrusts became more urgent, and her toes curled. “Fuck, _fuck_ ,” he swore and pressed his forehead to hers. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, pulling him deeper into her, and she started to make mewling gasps, inarticulate noises, caught up in the wave rising up within her, louder and louder. “I’ve got you,” he grunted, “I’ve got you.”

     “Please, _yes!_ ” she finally screamed and arched her back off the bed, body quaking in release of tension. James growled and pressed hard, slamming her back into the bed, and holding himself deep and coming inside her. Eventually they both collapsed, limp and satisfied, sweaty and out of breath amidst the sheets.

     “Lola...Lola, Lola...” he murmured lazily, eyes closed, nuzzling her cheek and kissing her softly.

     She exhaled and smoothed his hair. After a time, his head rested on her chest, and his breath slowed and fell into a steady rhythm.

     Shepard remained awake long after James fell asleep, still heartsick, but not quite so lonely. And not quite able to regret what she’d done.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish with James Vega (but written by somebody who is not fluent, so take with a grain of salt and my apologies if wrong!)  
> Besa mi culo - Kiss my ass  
> Mierda - Shit  
> Gracias, pero cállate la boca - Thanks, but shut your mouth.  
> Doña - (Title) Madam/Lady/Mrs.  
> Minúsculo - Tiny  
> Qué mierda está pasando - What the fuck is going on  
> Mírame - Look at me  
> Maldito pendejo - fucking asshole  
> Tu sabes - You know  
> De alguna manera - Somehow  
> Espera - Wait  
> Mandón - Bossy/domineering  
> Lo tienes, jefe - You got it, boss  
> Te deseo - I want you


End file.
